


Team-Building Excercise

by vanessa_cardui



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Collars, F/F, Humiliation, Magic School, Magic Theory, Mind Games, Multi, Other, Punishment, Sex Magic, Social Experiments, Unsafe insane and nonconsensual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanessa_cardui/pseuds/vanessa_cardui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let me be perfectly clear on this subject. I shall teach you, and you will learn; you will learn a good deal more than you would have with any other instructor. However, I am not teaching because I enjoy it, or for any other altruistic purpose. My primary interest is the suffering I shall inflict in the course of your instruction." </p><p>Grandmaster Eris Andromeda Carmichael isn’t one of the pure white-magic practitioners. But she is one of the world’s greatest living wizards--certainly the best who will take Academy students for their seventh and final year of instruction--and Lynn Kennedy has never settled for anything less than the best. </p><p>Lynn thinks she’s prepared to accept the dangers of studying with Eris. But nothing in the academy has prepared her for the reality of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lynn was super nervous, and this time, there was a good reason for it. She looked around. Eleven other students, all wearing the Academy robes. And they'd all matched for their seventh year residence with Grandmaster Eris Andromeda Carmichael. She'd been Lynn's first choice—Eris Carmichael was probably the most accomplished living wizard, certainly the most accomplished wizard that would take academy students for their seventh and final years.

But she wasn't one of the pure white practitioners, and the stories that had circulated . . . Lynn probably should've gone with someone safe. Shadrach Malley had taught her third year and fifth, and he was . . . well, he wasn't one of the greats, but he was a good teacher, and there was a lot that she could learn from him.

Eris' tower was way up in the Adirondacks; she'd gotten lost like five times on the way up. And she was making them wait outside the gates to her tower, on a flat, cleared section of gravel, trees around them, parking lot in back. It was strange and intimidating, and the other students mostly looked as intimidated as she felt.

Mostly. There was a boy whose hair looked like it had been polished who was standing with a sort of exaggerated ease, and there was a tall black girl—Lynn had seen her around in the academy. Cathy? Kasey? Something like that—who seemed poised and businesslike. But all the rest of them looked somewhere between uneasy and terrified. It was like the first day of academy all over again, and Lynn knew that she was closer to terrified than uneasy.

They had been told to present themselves at noon precisely, and just as the shiny-haired guy's phone chimed the hour, the doors opened, and Eris came out. She looked younger than her pictures. There were broad white streaks in her brown hair, and lines at the corners of her eyes, and a personality that made them all straighten up, swallow. Even shiny hair.

"All here," she said. "Well, fine. May as well get started. My name is Eris Andromeda Carmichael. Once you step through that gate, you will be mine."

The seventh year residency was optional. They could do some sort of guided study, or personal quest, and get the same diploma, the same recognition as graduates. More than half of the class did that, and Lynn very much doubted that she'd made the right choice.

"Do not make any mistake," said Eris. "I do not enjoy teaching, and would rather you were not here. But there have been inducements offered by the Academy, and by the conclave. So each year I take a class of twelve residents for their seventh-year studies. But let me be perfectly clear on this subject. I shall teach you, and you will learn; you will learn a good deal more than you would have with any other instructor. However, I am not teaching because I enjoy it, or for any other altruistic purpose. My primary interest is the suffering I shall inflict in the course of your instruction." She stopped and smiled, and Lynn flinched.

"I would most sincerely advise you to return to your conveyances, and choose your own course of study for the next year. You will be worse at magic as a result. That failure might well cause your death. But if you enter, experience has told me that perhaps half of you will attempt escape, and you will deeply regret it when your attempts fail. And those who do not attempt escape will refrain because they fear the consequences of failure, not because they do not regret the choices they have made. Now is your final opportunity to leave without consequence—take it. There are a dozen poor souls who did not make any other match for their residency waiting and hoping to take your places." There was some shuffling of feet, a few looks back at the parking lot, but nobody left. Eris sighed, and shook her head. "Perhaps you do not fully understand. If you step through those gates, you will be abused. Physically, sexually, mentally. It will be very bad, and you will wish you had taken the chance to leave when you could."

Lynn took a step back at Eris' look, and then steeled herself. It was like the first day of academy all over again. There hadn't been any warnings about abuse that day, and the academy hadn't been that bad, really. But the kids who hadn't been willing to suffer—who hadn't been willing to put themselves through the most grueling routines imaginable—they'd washed out, blanked and sent home with recollections of a difficult private school or something.

Magic didn't come easy, and having a little bit of it was almost worse than none at all. There were the nightwitches and demons and all the underdwellers, and while they'd take norms, the thing about living a normal life was that you wouldn't know about them, you probably wouldn't even process what was happening if one of them took you. Wizards knew, and wizards hunted them, which was stupid and dangerous and got them killed.

Lynn knew that Eris was telling the absolute truth. But she was going to go through the gate, as soon as it opened. It looked like the others had made the same decision; even Kasey looked a bit pale, but they weren't moving.

Except one guy. Daniel Olsen, who'd won the golden chalice for fourth and fifth year, and nearly won it every other. He shook his head, gathered himself together. "Fuck it," he said. "I'll see you guys next year." He gave a short bow to Ms. Carmichael. "Grandmaster," he said, and then turned, and headed back to the cars.

Shiny hair laughed. "Looks like Danny's punked out."

A couple of the other students looked astonished; Lynn was astonished too. But Grandmaster Carmichael didn't look angry or amused, or anything. Just sort of the way that she'd been looking. "Very well," she said, and the gates opened behind her.

It was one thing to decide. It was another thing to walk through those gates, when Daniel Olsen had decided not to. Only . . . Lynn had made up her mind, and he'd made up his. And the other students were already walking through. Lynn went in through the gates, head held high, and tried not to hear any significance to the way they clanged shut behind her.

There was a sort of parklike expanse beyond the gate; trees and gardens and a paved walk up to the tower. Eris strode past them. "Follow," she said, and they all did their best to keep pace, looking like serious students, not breaking into a jog, and not falling behind.

The doors of the tower were gorgeous; spells woven into iron and brass. They opened before Grandmater Carmichael, and closed behind them, nearly catching Shiny Hair's robes as he came in, last and late. There was one other student waiting there, a boy with pale skin and freckles. Pete? No, Parry. Parry Stephenson. One of the students who was always hanging in at the bottom of the class, but not quite below the failure line, thanks to constant, dogged effort.

He was taking Olsen's place, apparently. Well, good luck for him. Maybe. Possibly? Eris turned and faced them, and she smiled. Again, they flinched at her smile.

"There was one of you with good sense. Perhaps I'll have him over for a visit, later in the year, to see how he's getting on. And now let's hear your names, before I get started—if there's been a failure by the bureaucracy, it would be best to sort it out now."

There were six girls, and six boys. Lynn had been right about Kasey—it was Kasey Bouet, Eileen Sullivan, Cassandra Ross, Felicity Lopez, and Mary Brody for the girls, and the boys were Parry Stephenson, Ethan Greenberg, Juan Rivera, Quan Nguyen, Liam Donovan, with shiny hair turning out to be named Jordan Scott.

Lynn was terrible with names, but she did her best to remember them. It had been made abundantly clear that the twelve of them were going to be together for their seventh year, and that it wasn't going to be easy. Maintaining friendly relations with her fellows would be critical, and knowing who they were was going to be part of that.

Eris checked off a list. "Well," she said. "It seems that the goods delivered match the invoice," she said. "And now, let us begin."

"Finally," said Jordan, and Eris had her wand up, moving in a complicated pattern.

The teachers at the academy were good; none of the students, not even Daniel Olsen, could match an instructor, spell for spell. This was better—even just the wand work was crisper, more elegant than anything Lynn had ever seen. Jordan was lifted bodily by an invisible force, slammed into the gates, which boomed hollowly.

"You have taken a most peculiar attitude, Mr. Scott," said Eris. "Let us see what is behind it."

"Aw, c'mon," he started, and then stopped, gasping. He didn't look nearly as confident as he had until then.

"No," she said, and the wand made further movements. There was a mind-control element, maybe? Only it wasn't a control spell. "According to your transcripts, you are too stupid to have attempted this on your own, but as you made it through the first six years, you are not actually as stupid as you are acting. You were instructed; let us see by whom."

She made a motion with her free hand, a sort of riffling. "Ah, here we are. The wand gave a vicious little twist, and Jordan started talking.

"Seventh year . . ." he said. "Ah, well, you could try for Grandmaster Carmichael." It was Jordan talking, but it didn't sound like Jordan; it was more than a little like Professor Davis, who'd taught them Summonings and Exorcism.

"Might be that she'll take you on, might be not. Tries to chase students away, but a fine teacher; none better. Bark is worse than her bite, really. Go in, show some confidence, and you'll be fine. She'd respect a lad who didn't get scared off by a bit of talk, I'd think."

He grasped again, coughed.

"I see," said Eris. "It seems that you have done something to cause Lloyd Davis to hate you. When he ran—he was one of my students, of course—Andrei broke both his legs, and left him in a steamer trunk for two days. He looked absolutely delightful when we took him out, covered in shit and vomit."

Lynn blanched. There was a matter-of-fact tone to it; she had absolutely no doubt that this was what had happened.

"Perhaps you attempted a schoolboy prank or two, or did not show sufficient respect for his chosen field of study?" Eris walked back past the students, all of whom shifted quickly to get out of her way. "Or perhaps our Lloyd decided to send me a gift." She lifted her wand to his face, and Jordan turned away. Lynn could see his face; he was astonished, humiliated, and very badly frightened. "A kindly thought, but unnecessary. You have a pretty face, Jordan Scott, and this moment—this instant, when you realize that you are in over your head, and cannot escape—is a lovely one. But there are an endless number of foolish children who come out of the academy every year. And none of you know anything; this moment will come to all of you, in turn."

The wand went back, and Jordan collapsed to the floor.

"Unfortunately, my bite is a good deal worse than my bark."

There was a shimmer in the air, something that could not be seen. And then there was a sudden rent in Jordan's robe, and shirt, an angry red mark beneath. "Fifty, I think," she said. "Over the course of the day. Up on your feet; all of you, follow."

They followed. When they arrived at a classroom, it was . . . well, it had been what Lynn expected before she'd gotten there, but not exactly what she'd expected after the demonstration that they'd been given. It was just like a seminar room at the Academy. Two rows of desks, arranged facing a teacher's desk, blackboard and demonstration area. As Eris went to the teacher's desk, Jordan gave a sudden jolt, swore; there was a cut in his pants leg, and a welt visible beneath.

"Silence, please, Mr. Scott," she said. "If you cannot control yourself during the course of the lessons, you shall be restrained until control is achieved. The same applies to the rest of you, of course."

Of course. Lynn had chosen one of the seats in the first row—the one on the far left side. She wanted to see how the other students were reacting, but it seemed like looking away from Grandmaster Carmichael would be unwise.

"You will be in this room from nine o'clock in the morning until twelve, and again from twelve until five," she said. "Unless you have specifically been excused. There are no weekends and no scheduled vacations; there may be fieldwork, but then, there may not be. You shall find uniforms and a short code of behavior in your dormitories; there will be food in the great hall between eight and nine, twelve and one, and six and seven. I shall be assisted in my instruction by Master Rostem. You shall be meeting him shortly. As with myself, he is to be obeyed in all things. Are there any questions thus far?"

There were not. Jordan winced again as a welt rose on the back of his hand, but he kept silent.

"Very good. with that out of the way, let us begin. Andrei, bring out the materials."

Andrei was a big man, broad-shouldered, with blond hair; he was wearing the pants and vest of a suit, but not the jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up. He brought in a crate, removed the lid with a crowbar, and stepped back. Steel marbles; a lot of them.

"Levitation," said Eris, "is one of the first of the skills that you are taught, and will help me gauge your level of competence. Each of you will lift as many marbles as you can manage, and keep them suspended by magic at a height of no less than six feet above the floor, for at least a quarter of an hour."

She looked at them; Lynn had her wand out, but was waiting for the command to begin. "Those who manage the best will be rewarded; those who drop any will pick up everything that they've dropped, and return them to the crate. Using their lips. You may begin."

It was one of the first things they were taught, but it for all that it was simple, levitation wasn't an easy thing to maintain, and this wasn't a simple application of the skill; the marbles were round, was the problem, and metal, and it was always easier to lift one thing than a bunch of small things. And Lynn didn't want to have to try to find errant steel marbles underneath the desks and chairs and all. Ten. No, fifteen; she could probably manage twenty, but more would be pushing it. Seventeen. She focused the spell, performed the motions, and lifted with the part of her that lay above the liver and below the heart; pushed up and out and held.

There were other steel marbles floating up into clusters. Seventeen seemed about the middle of the pack; there were some who had fewer than ten up, and four or five who'd gone for somewhere north of twenty. And Jordan was sitting quietly, wand down.

"Nothing at all, Mr. Scott?" asked Eris.

"That . . . whatever I'm getting fifty of would hit, ma'am," he said. "I'd lose it."

Andrei shook his head. He was a handsome man, but while he'd been working, he looked . . . he looked sort of sad, like he was listening to a funny story, but which hurt him somehow. At Jordan's comment, he looked sadder.

"I am afraid, Mr. Scott, that if you do not learn to work despite distractions of that sort, you are going to die. Not under my care, perhaps, though that is far from guaranteed, but not long after you leave it. The academy is supposed to impress you with the fact that it is a dangerous world, but it seems it has not. Cast, and hold, or you will suffer for it." He cast. Five more steel marbles floated up from the crate to bob uncertainly with the others.

Levitation was . . . once they learned it, that was basically it. And there were relatively few occasions when Lynn had a reason to lift a thing and hold it. It was draining, in a way that she hadn't really anticipated. Each of the steel marbles was its own thing, and they each were trying to slip out of her grasp, slide down to the floor. Seventeen was a stupid number to pick; too few to win, too many to be easy. And fifteen minutes was a long time.

It seemed that she wasn't alone in having difficulty. Around her, the other students were breathing hard, wiping sweat from their foreheads with the sleeves of their robes. Jordan grunted, and his five dipped, spun, but didn't fall.

It was one of the larger clusters that broke and fell. Parry gasped, his wand going down.

"Ah, Mr. Stephenson," said Eris. "Attempting to demonstrate that you are the equal of the students who chose to be here, despite better opportunities, and proving that you are not. Gather them up, as you were told. And it is lips; not teeth, certainly not hands. And best to hope that none of your fellows loses control; you are to retrieve those which you dropped, not those of anyone else."

That was an impossible. . . there wasn't any way to know the difference. Only Lynn was sure that Eris would. Her marbles started to wobble, slip, and she kept control only by focusing on them completely. She barely even noticed Parry pushing against her legs, trying to get at one of his steel marbles.

One of the other girls did, though. Eileen? Felicity? Someone shrieked, and kicked, and one of the smaller flocks of steel marbles dropped, but did not fall.

Fifteen minutes was a long time. There was a clock on the wall, and Lynn had marked her time when she'd lifted; just as soon as they were over, she moved her steel marbles over, and let them drop. Along with just about everyone else.

A couple of clouds took a little later, and one stood there for a full minute longer, before the marbles dropped back into the crate.

Parry walked over to the crate, a marble in his mouth, dropped it, went back to look for more.

"Always an informative exercise," said Eris. "Now, let us see what we have learned. Ms. Bouet, step forward please."

Kasey stepped forward, looking both proud and cautious.

"You finished first, at thirty-two," she said.

Thirty-two! That was . . . seventeen had been a stupid number to pick. But if Lynn had tried for thirty-two, she'd have been crawling around looking for steel marbles five minutes in.

"Of course, this was because you used a superior incantation to your fellows; was this something you were taught?"

"Not taught, grandmaster. There were variants on the basic spells in the library stacks; Pei Cardi—"

"Yes, thank you, I recognized the spell. Why did you choose to perfect a skill that none of your fellows seemed to have found worth further development?"

"Because there was a better way," she said. "There had to have been. I thought—"

"I see," said Eris. "You may return to your seat. Ms. Ross, step forward please."

Cassandra was far more hesitant.

"Your score was zero," said Eris. "And your shriek was neither quiet nor pleasant. Would you care to explain yourself?"

"Zero! I had fifteen steel marbles up—"

"Which you did not keep above six feet for fifteen minutes," said Eris. "They dipped below that height for a time. Which you surely noticed. It would have been trivial to extend the duration of your spell, Ms. Ross; why did you choose not to?"

"It was Parry's fault!" she said. "He bumped me—"

"A second time?"

"I forgot, at the end," she said. "But I didn't—"

"Master Rostem, if you please?"

Andrei removed something metal and leather from the desk, and walked toward Cassandra.

"No," she said. "Look, it's just—"

He punched her in the stomach, hard. It was . . . everything else that had happened had been controlled, deliberate. That wasn't—it wasn't a slap, or a spell. Andrei had been controlling himself, and there was a flash there, where he'd let his control lapse. Cassandra doubled over, and he grabbed her hair, pulled it back, pushed the metal into her mouth, pulled the leather straps brutally tight.

Lynn looked uncertainly at the others, who looked shocked, at the edge of frightened. Parry'd stopped chasing after his marbles, and after a pause, he went back to work, paler than ever. It was a sort of gag thing, probably, that Andrei'd put on Cassandra. It looked brutal, whatever it was.

"It is unwise to be both sulky and wrong, Ms. Ross," said Eris. "And it is unwise to attempt to avoid your correction. Mr. Scott is working under pressure, and while nobody would claim that he did well, he at least performed quietly and to specifications. You will wear the bridle for the remainder of today's lesson; if you demonstrate a recrudescence of similar behavior, it shall be kept on for a considerably longer period. Do you understand, Ms. Ross?"

Cassandra nodded, ducking her head down.

"Good!" said Eris, and she smiled brilliantly at the rest of them, who flinched back. "Now, to continue with the lesson."

She turned to the chalkboard, and drew out the casting of a levitation spell; the notation for the turns and twists of the wands were complicated, but that was the core of most academy lectures; they could all follow perfectly. Then, on the next line, she drew out the spell that Kasey had used. It was considerably more complicated, and involved seven power-placements instead of three; Lynn could see why they hadn't bothered teaching that one.

"And now, Ms. Bouet, explain why the levitation of Pei Cardi is superior to that which your fellows used."

Kasey looked uncertain. "I . . . The fourth power placement is—"

"No," said Eris. "The rest may be excused a certain degree of ignorance," she said. "They trusted an institution to educate them, and their trust was not rewarded. But you looked beyond the bounds of what you were taught, Ms. Ross. You saw that there was a better method available. You looked at a storehouse full of endless treasure, picked up a penny, and left."

She looked over at Quan. "Mr. Nguyen," she said. "Explain why the levitation of Pei Cardi is superior."

"I don't know," he said. "I don't understand it."

"Unacceptable," said Eris. "Five."

Quan flinched, as something bit through cloth and flesh on his back.

"Ms. Kennedy?"

Lynn froze, shook her head. She had a half-dozen ideas, but nothing that she could articulate.

"Five," said Eris, and Lynn twisted. It hit her on the chest, just above her left breast, and it hurt so much it almost didn’t hurt at first. Then she felt it, saw the welt and the cut in the clothing.

"Mr. Greenberg?"

"I think," said Ethan. He swallowed, caught his breath. "The power-placements take the weight? In the standard spell, we’re taking the weight, but the other one, once the lifting is done, the spell holds it? Mostly?"

"There," said Eris. "A few moments of concentrated thought, and the result becomes clear."

Lynn twisted, as the spell bit into her lower thigh, just above the knee. It was impossible—how did Jordan manage to keep the marbles up when he was being hit by that thing?

"Thus far, for one day; tomorrow, you shall be expected to build on this. Now, from theory to practice; you will attempt grandmaster Pei Cardi’s levitation; twenty marbles for each of you."

She looked at Parry, shook her head. "If you do not finish your task soon, Mr. Stephenson, I fear you shall find yourself falling even further behind the other students. But those of you who are not currently crawling about after dropped toys may begin."

It was a complicated spell that Lynn had never tried before, and she was deadly nervous. Again, she straightened her back, and started the spell. The pain in her arm, when the spell bit, was impossible, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her; it was just a spell, it wasn’t . . . she continued. The clouds of steel marbles rose again, hers among them. Cassandra, though, was having trouble. She wasn’t even being whipped, but her cloud rose late and ragged.

And then Quan lost it, the control slipping, the marbles cascading down to the floor, rolling in all directions.

Eris shook her head, moved her wand. It was a grandmaster at work, and while Lynn couldn’t watch without losing concentration, what little she saw was brilliant. All the marbles that Quan’d dropped rose, returned to the crate.

"If there is one thing you will learn," she said. "If there is one thing that all of you will learn, it is that you shall not allow trivial distractions to control you." One of the steel marbles streaked out, hit Quan in the face. He dropped back, rose unsteadily. It whirled around, hit him in the shoulder.

"Take control of it, Mr. Nguyen," she said. "If you do not, it will not cease its attacks."

The thing about the spell—Pei Cardi’s spell, not whatever Eris was doing with Quan—was that it was more work to get the marbles up, more work to move them. But once they were up, they stayed, as though nailed into place. Ethan was right; there was something else holding the weight, in the way that there wasn't with the basic spell. Then the whip bit on the bottom of her foot, and she nearly lost it; the marbles wobbled out of control, and she couldn't see them, with the tears in her eyes. But she wasn't going to be fighting off a steel marble the way Quan was. She held on, brought them back in line. It hit again, in the same place as the first stroke, and again, there was the sense of everything spinning out of control, falling. But it didn't.

There were three more hours of lessons, all on the same basic subject. And none of them escaped unscathed. Quan eventually got the marble under control, but he had a black eye when he was done, and a bloody lip, and bruises along his arm and neck. Eileen had to stand still as Liam pelted her with steel marbles, and then when Liam lost control of one of the marbles, he had to help Parry finish picking up the ones he'd dropped.

Despite all that, it was probably the most substantive lesson that Lynn had ever gotten on magical theory. Most of what the academy taught was practical, rather than theoretical, and when there were theory lectures, they tended to be muddled. Either the teachers got distracted by questions, or they didn't answer questions, and nobody understood them. Eris made her points clearly, and made absolutely certain that everyone understood them before proceeding.

There was a little more reason for optimism than there'd been when they'd gone in the gate. And for fear—there were little flashes of malicious joy when a mistake was corrected that hinted at the depths to which their instruction was going to go. By four o'clock, Lynn had collected fifteen welts from that magical whip, one of which had severed her bra strap and left it hanging uncomfortably from one shoulder.

When the clock chimed, Eris put down her wand. "As this is your first day, you will now take a half-hour break to familiarize yourselves with your dormitory and with the regulations of this tower. You shall return to the classroom in a half-hour for your evening's assignment; other than that, you are at liberty until tomorrow's lessons. Master Rostem will show you to the dorm."

Andrei opened one of the other doors to the classroom, looked back at them, and then walked through. They followed somewhat hesitantly. It wasn't like the dorms in the Academy—no private rooms for upperclassmen, no common room. Just two long rows of cots, each with a small cabinet and writing desk next to it, and with a leather-bound book in the center of the pillow. "Lavatory through this door," said Andrei, pointing. "Great hall through that door. Leave the other doors alone."

On his way out, he grabbed hold of Cassandra, pulled her head down, unbuckled her gag, took it with him.

The front of her uniform was wet with drool, and she coughed miserably as the gag came out. And glared at Parry, who didn't seem to notice her.  
The beds seemed more or less the same; Lynn took one that wasn't next to either the lavatory door, or the one to the classroom—no sense in choosing a higher traffic area—and opened up the book.

It was a list of . . . it didn't use the word regulation. It was a list of "expectations." There were more of them than she'd have expected. The other students did more or less the same thing. "Apparently," said Eileen, "we are to bathe at least once a day. And brush our teeth in both the morning and evening."

"Clothing left in the cabinet will be repaired and clean by dawn," said Mary. "So at least there's that. But we have to make our beds every morning?"

"Each student's bed must be made by hand every morning," said Ethan. "And—"

"Page 7, last rule," said Liam.

Lynn hadn't . . . well, Eris had said something about sexual abuse. But this wasn't the angle she'd expected. "In the interests of building firm and lasting connections, any orgasm, male or female, shall require the use of another person's body, in some fashion—self pleasure short of orgasm shall be tolerated, but masturbation to orgasm will not."

"We have to come at least once a week," said Kasey.

"What?" asked Parry.

"It's in the hygiene section. After the bit about brushing your teeth. Also, there's a depilation spell there for pubic hair, and an 'expectation' that we will use it before class tomorrow morning." Kasey shook her head. "Female students are expected to use it on all hair below the eyes, as well—males are left to their own discretion. All of us have to keep contraceptive charms active at all time, though that seems a little belt and suspenders—if it was just women, or just men, that ought to be sufficient." "Alcohol, narcotics, hallucinogens and other mind altering substances or incantations may not be purposefully ingested or practiced upon oneself," said Quan. "But they may be administered to other students." He shook his head. "These are very strange rules."

That was something that nobody argued with. And nobody mentioned it, but Lynn was pretty sure that if they broke any of the rules, there was going to be trouble. Apparently, she was going to have to sleep with someone, at least once a week. Well, at least she could always administer some hallucinogens to them first.

When they returned to the classroom, Andrei was there. And there were three collars on the desk. A light leapt from Andrei's wand to one of the collars, burned a series of sigils into the metal.

"The Academy is a large place," said Eris. "And in many ways, an anonymizing place. As you have probably deduced, that is not the manner in which activities here will be conducted. Ms. Bouet, Mr. Greenberg, Mr. Rivera, please step forward."

None of them looked too happy to be asked to step forward, but they all did. "Thirty-two, twenty-six, and twenty-six. Those were the most steel marbles kept aloft for the required period. Well done; you may each take one of these collars."

Again, none of them looked particularly pleased with that reward, but they all took what was being offered.

"This evening, we shall conduct a team-building exercise. Specifically, you will form teams of three. Tomorrow morning, each team shall bring in a student wearing this collar, and nothing else, to the morning lecture. The three of you are starting in a position of relative authority; I suggest you make the most of it. And by all means, once your team has completed its initial goal, feel free to indulge."

There were some seriously nervous looks among the students. Well, everyone except Jordan, who was wincing at yet another hit from the whip-spell; his clothing was pretty tattered already.

"In addition, the gardens and library are now available to you; you may enter the library from the gray door in your dormitory, and the gardens from the green." A cold, brilliant smile from Eris. "You are here for the year, children. I think you shall find it an interesting experience indeed."

She waved her hand idly. "You are dismissed."

There wasn't a whole lot of conversation in the dormitory once they were done. There was still another hour before there'd be food, and people were looking at each other warily. Ethan left, headed for the library, and after a while Juan followed him. And then some of the others followed them, and some of the others went out to the garden.

Kasey had gone to the library, and it looked like Mary was going to follow her. Lynn's natural inclination was to go to the library and read books until everything blew over, but she knew that things wouldn't blow over, and that if she didn't find herself a team, she'd be showing up the next morning naked and wearing a collar. And it turned out that the bed she'd picked was next to the door to the library. "Mary?"

They'd been partnered for lab work in the academy a few times; Lynn didn't know her well, but at least she knew her. And she knew that she was friends with Kasey.

Mary stopped, looked at her. There were four other students left in the dorm, talking quietly, but they were all far enough away that they couldn't overhear.

"Look, there are going to be at least a couple of groups after Parry, right?" said Lynn, quickly. "But I know him—if you'll let me join up with you and Kasey, I can take you to where he'll be hiding."

"Huh," said Mary. "You sure?"

It was a little cruel, no question. But Lynn had seen him camping out in the library at the Academy, trying to avoid . . . well, there were always problems for less skilled students at the academy. Particularly for boys. And he'd gone to the same place each time. "Yeah, pretty sure," said Lynn.

Mary nodded. "Right," she said. "I'll talk it over with Kasey, and get back to you." She smiled. "I have a feeling she'll go for it; Parry's a cute kid."

Lynn smiled back. It wasn't . . . it wasn't the sort of team building that felt good. But maybe she had an ally, and that'd certainly help. There had been absolutely no indications that it was going to be an easy year.

When time came for dinner, it turned out that the great hall was huge; as big as the dining hall at the Academy. There were trays of roast and potatoes, and two big bowls of salad, but nobody ate much, and everyone watched very carefully at the groups that the students formed. Parry actually came in for dinner, which was brave, and sat with Jordan, which made sense—they were both marked out as targets.

Juan was sitting with Felicity, who seemed . . . well, it didn't strike Lynn that there was much to be happy about, but Felicity looked happy. And then Ethan came in, followed by Liam and Cassandra. Ethan and Liam looked happy, and Cassandra looked mad, probably because she was wearing a collar.

They'd put a robe on her, anyway, but she wasn't wearing anything underneath it. "She didn't want to shower alone," said Ethan. "So Eileen helped." Eileen came in a little later, looking smug, and recently washed.

Lynn shuddered slightly, as Mary sat down next to her. And then Kasey sat down across the table from her. "You're sure?" asked Kasey.

"Positive," said Lynn. "I saw him a few times in the library in the Academy. When he's hiding out, he'll go to the table nearest to the history stacks, and if that's not secure enough, he'll go to the back of the history section—the earliest periods."

Kasey pursed her lips, considered. "I know, it's a little weird?" said Lynn. "Maybe it makes him feel safe, or something? But there's no question that he was something of a target for bullies at the academy, and that's what he did, every time."

Kasey looked at Mary, who shrugged. "Yeah, okay," said Kasey, talking quietly. "There's an outside chance that he knows that you know. So, I'm going to make it look like I'm not impressed by what you have to offer. We're going to leave, and we'll meet you in the women's toilets in like five minutes. Then we'll go to the library and set up an ambush. At this point, there's one other collar in play, but if you're separated, they can pick you off at any point."

She shook her head, stood up. Mary stood up as well. "Sorry," she said, pretty loud. They went to one of the other tables, started eating by themselves. Lynn kept her wand in her hand as she ate. She watched them, watched everyone else, as best she could. The food was okay, but she wasn't very hungry. Mary and Kasey didn't seem that hungry either. They left, and basically, Lynn was alone with everyone else. Thing was, Kasey was right. They could just pick her off, really. Lynn was near the top of the class at the Academy, but so was everyone else there, except Parry. Three of them against her—they'd win. She'd bloody them, but they'd win. Even if Parry was one of the three.

She didn't leave right after Kasey and Mary left, but she didn't wait long, either.

The lavatories were sort of like the great hall—way bigger than was needed for a dozen students at a time. Lynn went past a column with sinks all around its base, didn't see anyone. "Mary?" she said. "Kasey?"

Mary ducked her head out from the showers. "Here," she said, ducking back in. Lynn tucked her wand back into her sleeve, followed. Kasey and Mary were standing in the shower's dressing room. "Right," said Lynn. "We should get there before—"

A wand touched the back of her neck. She turned, got her wand out, but the paralyzation spell was strong enough to stop her.

She'd gotten far enough that she could see Quan, putting his wand back into his belt. "Sorry," said Kasey. "This seemed like a better bet."

Then she put the collar on Lynn's neck. There was a shiver of magic taking hold, something considerably stronger and more complicated than the paralyzation spell Quan had used, which was already wearing off.

"Oh, come on," said Mary, and she patted Lynn's cheek. "Like you wouldn't have done the same. Anyhow, there'll be three of you out there naked tomorrow, so it's not . . ." she shrugged, shook her head. "It's not like I have to explain myself to you, anyway."

The paralyzation spell was gone. Lynn whipped her wand out. Kasey first, then Quan; Mary wasn't as good. They weren't expecting it—didn't even have wands in hand. Fire spell, quick one, then an. . .

The fire spell didn't work. Neither did a translocation, which had been Lynn’s Masterwork, for fifth year.

"It’s the collar," said Kasey. "It’s a pretty neat spell. Means you can’t cast unless I let you, and you have to do what I say."

"Whoa, really?" said Quan. "What I say too?"

"No," said Kasey. "It’s keyed to the one who put it on. Anyhow, we may as well go back out and show people how it went down."

Lynn fidgeted, pulled at her collar. She really didn’t want to go out wearing it, but she was going to have to. "Can I at least go pee?" she said; she’d been too keyed up before to notice, but she was going to have—

"Go ahead," said Kasey, and Lynn nearly pissed herself right there; there was a sudden, unstoppable need. Lynn dashed for a toilet, and Mary and Quan started laughing. Kasey wasn’t though, and didn’t make her do anything else; just walk out into the dorm, where Cassandra was lying resentfully on her bed as Ethan and Liam talked quietly on Ethan’s, which was next to hers.

Then Juan came in, naked and collared, with Jordan, Parry, and Felicity whooping it up behind.

"Teams of three, Johnny," said Jordan. "Gotta learn to count if you want to be a wizard."

"Huh," said Ethan. "Looks like his easy bet wasn’t as easy all that."

"Damn straight," said Jordan. "Not that Juan gets to be straight any more, either. Do a little dance for everyone, Juan."

It was painful to watch; Lynn looked away, watched the other students watching Juan shuffle around. None of them seemed to be enjoying it. "He followed Parry back to the library, but didn’t actually make sure that Felicity was on-board," said Jordan. "Turns out that was a mistake."

Jordan put his feet up, crossed his arms behind his head. "So, anyone need a blow-job? Because while Johnny here might have acted like he wanted to be a big guy and push around the guys who everyone expected would get pushed around, what he really wants to do is suck cocks and lick assholes. And you gotta come once a week, you know." Nobody seemed inclined to take him up on that offer. "No, really, he loves it. Go on, Johnny. Tell Liam there how much you admire him, and how much you want to suck on his cock."

"Oh, fuck off," said Liam, as Juan started talking about how great Liam was, how beautiful he looked. "Seriously Jordan, fuck off."

He had his wand out. "Eh, eh, eh," said Jordan. "Not supposed to use magic in the dorm. It's in the book."

"Call him off, or you're going to have to break the rules to stay alive, Jordan," said Liam.

Jordan hesitated. "Arright, come back here, Johnny. Looks like Liam doesn't want to play."

"Besides," said Liam. "Cassandra's prettier, anyway."

Cassandra squawked angrily, and other people laughed, which cut the mood. Only . . . they did have the collars on. And it was pretty clear that Jordan was going to be using his to rape Juan. Lynn looked over at Kasey, who gave a sort of 'there there' motion with her hand. It wasn't entirely comforting, and Kasey saw that Lynn wasn't entirely comforted. "Look," she said, quietly. "We're studying with a monster. But that doesn't mean we have to become monsters."

"No takers?" said Jordan. "Come on, guys. He's got nice soft lips, and he really tries so hard to please."

Nobody said anything.

"Well, looks like you're on your own, Juan. Jerk off, lick it up, and you can sleep at the foot of my bed."

"Jordan," said Eileen.

"What?"

"The rules," she said. "It's not . . . you'll get in trouble."

He scowled, looked over at Juan, who was on his knees, one hand on his cock. "You can . . ." Then he looked back at Eileen. "You can keep going, Johnny. There's nothing in the rules about making other guys jerk off. You want to keep him from breaking the rules, you can suck on him when he comes."

She actually got up, like she was going to do it. Then she sat down, scowling. "Oh, fuck you, Jordan."

"Sorry, sweetie," he replied. "I indulged in the library, with Juan's lovely soft lips. You'll have to find someone else to get you off this week."

Juan groaned, spasmed, left lines and splotches of cum on the floor. Then he bent over and started licking.

"Those of us who aren't monsters already, anyway," said Kasey, and turned off her bedside lamp.

Juan finished licking, went up next to Jordan's bed, and was asleep right away. Lynn turned off her bedside lamp as well, but it took her a lot longer to fall asleep.

The next morning, they let her wear clothing for breakfast. Then Kasey gave her a meaningful look before they went in to the classroom, and Lynn took off her robe and her uniform, folded them up, and laid them on her bed. It would've been easier if Kasey had told her to do it; it would've been . . . she had to make herself do it, even though everyone was watching her.

The lavatories were huge, with personal shower stalls and dressing rooms. Since she'd gotten there, nobody had seen her shoulders, or her ankles, or anything, except maybe a little flash of skin where the lash had cut through her clothing. But . . . well, they were all looking, and they all looked a little amused. Mary nudged Kasey, said something that Lynn couldn't hear, and Kasey looked exasperated. "Depilatory spell," she said.

Lynn tried to fight back panic. The spell was in the book—she just had to—but there wasn't time, and everyone was smirking at her, and—

Kasey had her wand out. It clearly wasn't a spell that she knew well, there were hesitations, large movements, but there was the smell of burning hair. And it hurt. It hurt her crotch, her armpits, her upper lip, and little pin-pricks of pain wherever else she had the occasional errant hair. She folded up, fought back tears.

"If you want, you can undo it after the year is over," said Kasey. "Have you got a contraception spell on?"

"Yeah," said Lynn. Not that it had been given much of a workout, but she had a contraception spell on since third year.

"Good," said Kasey. "Now hurry up, or we'll be late."

Lynn hurried. She had to.

There wasn't anything normal about sitting at a desk, wearing nothing but a collar. A collar that meant that she had to do everything that Kasey said. Juan was clearly just as uncomfortable—more uncomfortable—he had purpling bruises on his ass, and his thighs, and he looked frightened, and Cassandra looked angry and also a little uncomfortable. And everyone else looked . . . well, they looked worried, but also glad that they weren't the ones who were naked.

Jerks.

At precisely nine o'clock, Eris came in, and smiled faintly as the students straightened up. "It is always interesting to see how these exercises play out. Ms. Kennedy, Ms. Ross, and Mr. Rivera, please come forward."

Lynn got up, stood at the front of the classroom, back to the chalkboard, with Juan next to her, and Cassandra next to him.

"Let us begin with you, Ms. Ross. Tell me, please, how you came to have been captured."

"Eileen," said Cassandra.

Eris' wand moved, and there was a stripe along Cassandra's shoulder; she winced, shifted. "Be more specific, please, Ms. Ross."

"We agreed we'd be on a team together, so then she went into the shower with me, but she had her wand in her hair, and she got me. And then Liam and Ethan came in, and Ethan put the thing on me," said Cassandra.

"A tale of woe," said Eris. "And what have you learned from this?"

"Not to trust Eileen, anyway," said Cassandra. "And not to let go of my wand ever."

"I see. Ms. Kennedy?"

"I made a deal with Mary that I'd help Kasey get someone else, but I guess she thought it'd be easier to get me. Or they'd already teamed up with Quan? When I thought I was meeting Kasey and Mary, Quan got behind me and paralyzed me."

A flick of the wrist, and the sting of the whip across her back. "And who were you intending to help Ms. Bouet 'get'?"

"Parry," said Lynn. She hadn't wanted to say that.

"Quite. And Ms. Ross—who were you hoping to target?"

"Um. Parry, I guess," she said.

"I see," said Eris. "Well, tell me Ms. Kennedy. What mistakes did you make, in pursuit of the elusive Mr. Stephenson?" It wasn't the question that she'd been expecting to get, but Eris didn't tolerate delay. "I should've talked to Kasey," said Lynn. "Maybe I'd have gotten . . . maybe I'd have been able to tell what she wanted. But Mary wasn't the one deciding, so it wasn't like she was faking indecision."

"And what else?"

Lynn didn't know. "I guess I should've made more friends at the academy?"

"Perhaps, Ms. Kennedy, perhaps. And now Mr. Rivera. It seems that starting in a position of relative power did not last, in your case. Tell us how this came to be."

"I followed Parry out from supper," he said. "Felicity was with me. Only when I got close, she went after me, and Jordan was also there. Three on one, and I lost."

"Indeed," she said. "And had you previously attempted to recruit Mr. Scott?"

"No," said Juan. "I asked Mary, but she was already with Kasey, and Ethan and Liam were pretty tight, but I thought that I'd be okay with Felicity."

"Clearly, you were wrong. And you had not paid sufficient attention to your instructions. Which brings me to another point. It seems that you have not been entirely in compliance with the regulations I have set forth for you."

Juan hung his head down.

"Master Rostem?"

Andrei had been standing behind Eris, arms crossed. There was a sort of urgency to the way he came back, pushed behind Juan. With one hand, he forced him down to his knees, and then took a pair of pliers from his belt.

Juan's eyes widened, and he shook his head. Lynn was close enough to see the muscles on Andrei's arm tense, the way he forced Juan's mouth open, pushing the pliers in. Lynn turned away, but she couldn't avoid hearing the crack, Juan's agonized scream.

"Silence, please, Mr. Rivera. Unless you need to be silenced?"

Juan shook his head, blood running from the side of his face, tears on his cheek.

"Master Rostem?"

Andrei gave her something white and bloody. "The first of the season," she said. "Always something special."

Lynn looked out at the rest of the class. They looked horrified, even Jordan, who looked like he was going to be sick. "I have been sufficiently clear with my expectations for those who choose to study under me," said Eris. "It would be best if you lived up to these expectations."

Another brilliant smile, of the sort that made them all flinch. "A spittoon for Mr. Rivera, please, Master Rostem."

Andrei put one next to Juan, who hadn't gotten back to his feet; he spit a stream of blood and saliva into the brass.

"Perhaps during lunch you will be able to convince the team who caught you to seal the wound." She looked back at the class. "They are, of course, responsible for regrowing the tooth I have taken; by tomorrow, I expect it to be back, or I shall take a second one from you, and one from each of them."

"You three may return to your seats," she said. "Mr. Scott, Mr. Greenberg, Mr. Stephenson, and Ms. Bouet, step forward please."

Lynn walked shakily back to her seat. It was . . . it had been serious before then, obviously. But there was something different about that, something dark in Andrei's urgency, in Eris' smile. It was going to be a very long year.

"Mr. Greenberg," she said. "Tell us of your triumph."

"Uh, Eileen . . . okay, so Cassandra was really mad about Parry making her bobble during the testing? When I didn't agree to help her chase him down, she huffed off. But I figured that she'd be pretty easy target, so I talked to Liam—"

"Why, Mr. Greenberg?"

"Uh, why Cassandra would be an easy target? Because she was . . . she sort of seemed to think that Parry had to be a target, and Jordan, so it wasn't like she was thinking much about people possibly targeting her. And also . . . well, she didn't do very well with the steel marbles. I mean, not in terms of how many she lifted, but in terms of how she dealt with distraction? Anyhow, Liam agreed, and when he heard her asking Eileen to go to the shower with her, he got her on our side." He shrugged, looked a little uncomfortable. "I mean, it had to be someone, right? And she was . . . ."

"Yes?"

"She was kind of unpleasant, alright? And kind of stupid." Ethan wasn't any happier to be on the spot than any of the people wearing collars had been. Of course, he wasn't the one sitting naked at his desk.

Cassandra wasn't too happy to hear that. She glared furiously at Ethan, who seemed to be a bit battered by the questions and the looks he was getting.

"And why not go after Mr. Stephenson, as Ms. Ross had asked you to? Surely, he had not impressed you with his performance at the exercise."

"He didn't do much worse than anyone else, really. Just tried too hard. And he had to know that he was a target. And, uh, I guess Cassandra was like . . . I mean, she was there. And she wasn't expecting it."

"Ah," said Eris. "A careful and precise explication. Now, Mr. Scott. I believe your choice of target was more or less determined for you. But how was it that you came to be the one to grab hold of the collar, and place it around your victim's neck?"

"Well, Parry was mad at him for coming after him, and Felicity was also kinda going after Johnny, but I figured that the collar was the key, so while they were doing that, I got it, and then then held him down, with pressure spells, and Parry had his wand, so I put it on him."

"I see. And have you learned anything from your adventure?"

"Well, you gotta keep clear on what the rules are," he said. "And I mean, if you're going to have allies, you should try to get people who don't have any reason to cross you? I mean, nobody else had tried to form a team with Parry, and Felicity . . . Juan was kinda taking her for granted? But she didn't have any good reason to pretend to be on our team."

"Eloquently stated. Now, Ms. Bouet. Tell us please how you came to put a collar on Ms. Kennedy."

"Well, Mary was my friend, and she. . . well, Quan and Lynn had both talked to her about joining with us. Quan wanted to after Jordan, and Lynn wanted to go after Parry, which . . . I mean, Parry was going to be on his guard, and I didn't really want Jordan. So I decided to cut Quan in, and go after Lynn. It went pretty easily."

"Why?"

"I'm sorry?" said Kasey, panicking a little.

"Why did the capture proceed easily, and why did you decide to cut Quan in, and go after Lynn, rather than the other way around?" Eris had her wand up, but hadn't cast anything.

"I guess it went easily because Lynn trusted us? I mean, she was . . . she was looking for someone to trust, so that made it easy." Lynn flushed in her seat. She wasn't wearing any clothing, and they'd all seen Kasey burn off her pubic hair, but this was leaving her even more exposed.

"And I guess I thought . . . I mean, Mary wanted Quan on our team more than she wanted—"

"No," said Eris. "I do not expect eloquence or clear thinking from academy graduates still wet behind their ears. But I do expect honesty." Her wand described a complicated pattern, nothing Lynn had ever seen before.

"Oh God," said Kasey. "I don't know what that spell is but I shouldn't have oh God, I'm talking—" She put her hands in front of her mouth, trying to hold the words back, and then dropped them to her sides, "but if I stop it then she'll have Andrei cut off my ears or something but I'm going to say something horrible about her and then I'll get punished and I—"

"Ms. Bouet!" said Eris. "You misjudge me. There is little entertainment in forcing you to misbehave and then punishing you. You will misbehave, and you will be punished. But for now, answer the question. Why did you choose to betray Lynn Kennedy, rather than Quan Nguyen?"

"Because Lynn is pretty and I wanted to see her naked with a collar on," said Kasey.

Lynn hadn't noticed Kasey blushing before, like ever, but despite how dark she was, there was definitely a flush in her cheek. And Lynn knew that she was blushing head to toe, and was also mad, and everyone could see—

"There," said Eris, and her wand undid the spell. "And in the future, you will spare yourself some embarrassment if you are more honest."

"Now, Mr. Stephenson. Tell me; are you grateful that you've been allowed this opportunity to pursue your seventh-year studies here?"

"Yes," said Parry, almost defiantly.

"Despite the fact that almost half your classmates picked you out as a victim?"

"They didn't get me," he said. "And one of them is spitting out so much blood that he's probably going to pass out."

"Do not be dramatic," said Eris.

"No, I mean, sorry. But it'll probably be me spitting out the blood soon enough. Only here. . . ." he hesitated. "Everyone's getting it. Also the kids who . . . the people who everyone thinks were so great, they're also spitting blood. So yes, I am grateful."

"Interesting," said Eris. "And I am certain that I could elicit another embarrassing truth, if I chose. However, unlike Ms. Bouet, you have not deliberately told me anything untrue, so we shall let that pass. You may return to your seats, all of you."

When they were back in their seats, and Juan had spit out another mouthful of blood, she started on the lesson. It was about something just as simple as levitation—literally, the first thing that most wizards were taught; producing light with magic.

"The challenge this time is to keep the flame burning at a light level of at least fifteen candles. Whoever holds their light the longest shall be counted as the winner. You may begin."

It wasn't at all easy to concentrate without clothing. But it was easier than if she was being whipped. Or if someone had yanked one of her teeth out; Juan's light was dim, and didn't last long.

Cassandra's also wasn't doing well; she held on a little longer than Juan. And a little longer than Parry, who might have been happy to be there, but who still wasn't actually that good at magic.

When Juan's light went out, he convulsed, the invisible whip marking his hip and thigh. Parry went the same way, then Cassandra. Pretty clear what failing meant, but not what holding the flame would win. If she'd been one of the top three, maybe . . . maybe she'd have been the one Jordan caught. Or something. Point was, she probably ought to have been watching Kasey cast. Once again, she wasn't straining the way the other students were. Daniel Olsen had beaten her out for the chalice twice, but she'd beaten him once, and apparently had found better spells for everything.

Well, maybe she wasn't going to beat Kasey. But she'd do better than Mary, anyway. The thing was, they'd almost all gone with white light. But Eris hadn't specified, and red light was a lot easier. Ethan caught on to what she was doing, and copied her; but Quan dropped out, and started twisting under the lash, as did Eileen a little bit later. Felicity also copied her, but too late; she was already starting to sweat. Mary didn't, and she had to let it go before Felicity did. So did Liam. But they all went, and then it was just her, Ethan, and Kasey.

There wasn't any way she was going to beat whatever Kasey had cast. There was a clear white light at the end of her wand, probably twice as many candles as she needed. But Ethan was struggling, his light dimming down to just the very edge of acceptable. Might be less energy, but it was chancier. Lynn kept her light bright, her breathing regular. 

Then Ethan slipped up, dropped too low, and gave a muffled yelp as the lash cut through his clothing.

Just Lynn and Kasey, and Kasey was going to win. Only. . . well, first off, the longer she held out, the longer everyone else got whipped, and not her. And maybe Kasey had a better spell, but maybe it wasn't enough better.

It was, though. It was clearly better enough, but Lynn held on as long as she could, giving everything to the spell. She barely felt the lash, she was so drained when she finally had to let the spell go.

"John Henry was a steel driving man," said Eris. "Lord, lord. But after he died with his hammer in his hand, they went on using steam hammers. Now, Ms. Kennedy, you have tried as hard as you possibly could, and you failed, as you knew perfectly well you were going to. Now, your vision is blurry, your stomach is unsettled, and you have no strength left; I do not doubt that this is going to interfere with your ability to absorb the remaining lessons."

Lynn bowed her head.

"Tell us, please, Ms. Kennedy. What did you hope to accomplish by dragging things out in that manner?"

"I didn't want to give up, I guess."

"And did you give up, Ms. Kennedy?"

Lynn shook her head. "I guess," she said.

"Are you still maintaining the spell?"

"No, Grandmaster Carmichael," said Lynn. "Yes, I gave up, in the end. But it was . . . ."

"You didn't want to do something, so you harmed yourself and hurt the rest of your class by refusing to face the fact that you would have to do it, sooner or later."

"Yes, Grandmaster Carmichael."

She looked away from Lynn, to the rest of the class. "This is not a game, and you do not get points for effort. I am not interested in sportsmanship, or heart, or anything else of that sort. When you leave here, you are graduates. You will live or die based on your choices, and if you make the sort of choices that Ms. Kennedy has just made, you will die. Noble failure is failure."

Then she turned to Kasey. "I take it that this is another penny that you picked up in the library," she said.

"Yes ma'am."

Eris shook her head. "This makes your failure to understand and explain the theory yesterday even more baffling. You are a hair better educated than your peers, but you seem to be considerably stupider than they are. Mr. Stephenson, come to the front of the room, please." Parry stood, awkwardly, as Eris wrote down the pattern of chalk marks that showed the spell that Kasey had cast. "Now," she said. "Explain how the light was maintained with greater ease than that from the spell which you cast."

"Um, it's burning itself, sort of," he said. "I mean, there's this group here, right, and there's the secondary—"

"Correct, Mr. Stephenson. You may return to your seat."

Kasey wasn't happy about that. And honestly, it wasn't exactly fair. Yes, if you took those spells out, separately, compared them like that, it was obvious. But Kasey'd probably learned a bunch of different spells. Lynn had been in the library too, looking for specific things, trying to make sense of the things she had learned. And there were books that were just thousands of spells, one after the other. And most of them didn't relate to anything else, in any particular way.

"Now, tell me Ms. Bouet. Are you familiar with the third minor transfiguration? It is for a more efficient transfer of energy, to make ice from water with a lower expenditure of energy than a direct transformation."

"No, ma'am," said Kasey. "There was a spell to purify water at lower energy, and a double transformation that was in the manual of the—"

"No was sufficient, Ms. Bouet."

Eris waved, and the board cleared. "we will begin with a direct transformation. Mr Scott, you may put down the notation on the board." Jordan swallowed, stood, and started writing. His handwriting wasn't very neat, but it looked right to Lynn. Mostly right; she was bleary with effort, and she had a headache starting behind her eyes and spreading through her head.

"Ms. Sullivan," said Eris. "What would happen if we performed the spell in the manner that Mr. Scott has recommended?"

"I don't . . . the heat would be wrong?"

"Correct," she said. "It would produce ice a good dealer colder than intended; perhaps at a hundred degrees below freezing. And is this is a direct effect spell, it would produce perhaps ten or fifteen ounces of ice before leaving you as tired and stupid as Ms. Kennedy. Correct it please, Ms. Sullivan, twenty-five for you, Mr. Scott." Jordan winced as the lash tore into him. He'd probably gotten nearly that many while Lynn'd been trying to beat Kasey, but it was worse this way—more space between strokes, and they'd hit him while everyone else was fine. Lynn watched Eileen fix what he'd put up. And yeah, he'd made three mistakes. One of which was probably just sloppy handwriting, but the other two were actual mistakes.

"Quite correct," said Eris. "The task now before you is to produce a spell that will not be a direct effect; I want something that will produce the ice in the manner that the spells Ms. Bouet has brought with her produced light, and held steel marbles above the ground. The collars will remain on, and the teams will remain in their current configurations, until at least one of these groups can complete the work. Similarly, those who wear collars are not to wear clothing until such time as the assignment is resolved. Are there any questions?"

There weren't.

"The library is off limits until this task is completed. Mr. Scott, you will find the necessary texts to complete the tutelary dentistry you have occasioned upon your bed. Oh, and so long as you are in teams, tell me: Who on your team will be taking the consequences of your inevitable delays and failures?"

Jordan looked at Parry, considered. "Felicity, I guess," he said.

"What?" said Felicity.

He gave her a pleading look. "Parry—he—I had to choose, right?"

Felicity didn't seem mollified.

"Same question, Mr. Greenberg?"

Ethan straightened up. "I will," he said.

"I see," said Eris. "Leadership. And yet, I fear you may underestimate the sort of consequences that you will face as a result of this decision. Ms. Bouet?"

Kasey hesitated. "Lynn," she said, finally.

"And it seems that at least one of you is aware of exactly how many people are on her team, and who is already scowling beneath the lash."

"You could've said Juan!" said Felicity. "You fat-faced, stupid—"

She didn't even notice Andrei coming up behind her with the gag. "Ms. Lopez," said Eris, once it was it place, and Felicity was reduced to wet sputtering and angry looks. "Had you told Mr. Rivera about Mr. Scott's proposal, it would have been an even conflict, and I would not have expected either Mr. Scott or Mr. Stephenson to have been particularly effective combatants. It was entirely your decision which put Mr. Scott in a position superior to yourself; perhaps next time you will choose more carefully. Now sit, and be silent." Felicity sat, looking mutinous. Eris was right, and . . . well, maybe Lynn would've sided with Parry and Jordan against Juan. There was something about putting one in the eye of someone better at magic. But maybe not, and after seeing how it played out, definitely not. There was a difference between being better than her at magic and being a bad person, and it was a distinction worth remembering.

"Open your desks, please," said Eris, and they did. In Lynn's, there was a notebook with her name embossed on the cover, two pens, and a pencil. "Before you start work on the spell, I will want a copy of the two spells that you used for levitation, as well as the two spells for light. Creating the spell I have asked for will be a difficult and no doubt involved process, and you shall begin after you finish your luncheons. If you do not complete it by tomorrow morning, you shall each receive four lashes; that number will double for every day in which a completed spell is not produced."

Eris glanced up at the clock. "As you were the victor in this contest, Ms. Bouet, you shall spend your lunch break with your fellow students, rather than in my office. Mr. Greenberg, I am afraid that you are not so fortunate. Understand—this is not one of those consequences which you have so bravely accepted. You are simply next in the rotation. The rest of you are dismissed. Mr. Greenberg, please follow me."

It wasn't . . . Lynn followed close behind Kasey, out to the lunchroom, and when Mary and Quan sat down at her right, she sat at her left. It wasn't that she was happy with Kasey, or wanted to be close to her, but she was naked and at a minimum, Kasey thought they were on the same team. Which was, sad to say, the closest thing that Lynn had to a friend. It might mean a bit of protection, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Jordan had gone back to the dorm before he joined them in the lunchroom, and he and Parry looked through a half dozen books, while Juan bled, and Felicity seethed behind her gag. But she also stuck close to them, despite not having any reason to like them. Eris had said that the teams would stay as they were, and it seemed that the teams were . . . that they'd all fitted themselves into a smaller groups, one way or another.

"A new spell," said Mary, when she came back with her pasta. "Haven't been allowed to try that before."

Kasey looked over at Lynn. Just a short look, nothing pointed. "A lot of things we haven't been allowed to do before."

Quan laughed, swallowed, tried not to leak orange juice out his nose.

"Either way, that's dangerous stuff," said Mary. "And I don't want to screw it up."

"Thanks," said Lynn, and Mary gave her a quick nod.

"Problem is, we are going to screw it up," said Quan. "Like, a lot. I mean, a new spell—"

There was a sudden piercing shriek, and Juan fell back to his knees, turned his head, shook, and another gout of blood hit the floor. Jordan and Parry looked even paler than usual, and went back to their books.

"Even old spells, we'll screw up a bunch of times until we get them right," Quan said. "Those guys more than us, apparently, but even if we're good, we're not going to get it right the first time. A new spell, even if we have the theory, it's going to . . . I mean, how will we know that we have it right, before we actually put juice in it? Even if we get the motions right, which we won't, what the hell is it going to do?"

"It's not exactly a new spell," said Lynn, slowly. "It's something—it's the third minor transfiguration, or something like that? So there is a spell."

"If you're suggesting that you try to break into the library," said Kasey, "I'm saying no."

That no stuck; it wasn't just that she hadn't wanted to try it, but Lynn knew that now she couldn't try it. Couldn't even argue that they should try it, which she hadn't wanted to do.

"I'm just saying," said Lynn, "that there is a right answer; it's not that we're trying to make something that's completely new."

"Fair enough," said Mary. "Not sure if it's a distinction that matters, but it might." She looked up at the clock. Ten minutes of their lunch hour had gone. "Probably should eat fast, anyway, and get started. Progressions like that whipping thing will be a stone bitch, if they get out of hand."

That was certainly true, but Lynn was grateful that it wasn't Kasey who'd made that observation. If she had, Lynn would've been stuffing food into her face as quickly as she possibly could.

Even without that incentive, they had forty-five minutes of their lunch hour left for work. Which started with copying out the spells they'd used. Fortunately, one of them was still on the board, and Kasey knew the other ones cold. They weren't the only ones back in the classroom before they had to be—Jordan and Parry had apparently worked through the spell enough times to patch up the hole in Juan's mouth, and Liam and Eileen were already back at work when they got there.

Cassandra didn't show up at all, but Felicity was there, working despite the gag. And then suddenly shouting, despite the gag, holding her arm. That was enough of a distraction that even Kasey went over to see what was wrong.

It was a symbol, cut into her forearm. A circle, with an arrow at the fourth quadrant, and two ringlets in the third; perfectly normal sort of thing in wand notation. But why it'd appeared on Felicity's arm . . . .

"Was that what you put down?" asked Kasey, looking over Jordan's shoulder. "Because the arrow's in the wrong quadrant, for the next motion."

He gritted his teeth, looked at her with a look that was probably supposed to make her back down. It didn't. After a little while, he looked away. "Maybe," he said.

Kasey shook her head, went back to her seat. "You were right, Lynn," she said.

Mary and Quan looked up.

"There is a correct answer," she said. "And every wrong symbol we put down is going to hurt you."

"Oh, God," said Lynn, shaking her head, wanting Kasey to be wrong, and knowing that she wasn't.

"I am . . ." Kasey shook her head. "Look, I didn't . . . "

Lynn was listening. She had to be, but it seemed like Kasey didn't know what she was going to say.

"It had to be someone, and it made the most sense this way," she said, finally. "I'm sorry, and I wish I'd just left when she told us to. But I didn't, and now we're here, and if I had to do it again, I'd do it the same way." She looked at Lynn like she expected Lynn to absolve her, or something.

"Sure," said Lynn. "We may as well get on it, though. Won't be any easier to get things done if we're getting sixty-four or a hundred and twenty-eight lashes a day, in addition. I mean, look at the way Jordan keeps fucking up."

"Fuck you," said Jordan. "Your pussy looks dry, Lynn. And your boobs sag."

"Touchy," said Kasey. "Wouldn't want to pick a fight with a team of heroes, Lynn."

"No," said Lynn. "I mean, look at what they do to people on their own team. Wonder what's happening to Ethan, anyway."

"Whatever it is," said Mary. "I'm sure it'll happen to all of us."

That was a grim thought. They got back to work, copying over the spells, and while Felicity got another symbol cut into her back—this time, Parry'd screwed up. Fortunately nobody on Kasey's team made any mistakes in the copying.

The rest of the notebooks, though. There was an endless number of empty pages, and they were all going to hurt her.

"We should probably start with the . . . direct effect spell, she called it?" said Quan. "I mean, the point she was making was the similarities between the light and levitation and this, so, we should start with that, take it apart."

Kasey nodded, and he started writing. Mary and Kasey were watching Lynn, rather than Quan, but nothing showed up on her skin. So that was okay; he got the whole thing down, with ten minutes left before they were supposed to be in the class.

Rather than writing it out themselves, they’d crowded around his notebook. It wasn't that complicated a spell—they'd all had to do it, for the third year qualification exams—but it was a long one, and there were some bits that Lynn didn't really understand.

"So it's not just that there's one way?" said Mary. "Maybe? I mean, we could've started with analyzing the four spells we have, to get at the points where it's different—that's not wrong, but it's—"

"Try it," said Kasey.

Mary bit her lip. When she opened her notebook, Quan’s notes were there as well. She shrugged, and started rewriting the levitation spell. And that was fine, too.

"Right," said Kasey. "So it's mistakes, but it's not like there's one right way to do this. Maybe we'll get more information after lunch?"

"Wouldn't bet on it," said Mary.

Mary was right. After they went back in, Eris returned to the classroom looking exactly like she always looked, and Ethan came in behind her, pale, bruises showing on his neck and wrist.

He sat down, shook off Liam’s hand, and did his best to concentrate on the lecture, without actually looking at Eris. And Mary was probably also right about it going to happen to them, sooner or later.

The lecture wasn’t about any specific effect. It had to do with proper form in creating spells. Which would’ve been useful if it had started with the assumption that they didn’t know what they were doing. As it was, Lynn had the feeling of being thrown into the deep end of the pool, by someone who would enjoy watching her drown.

To the extent that she understood the lecture, it was about determining the most efficient option, where there are several sets of movements that achieve the same effect, and then on making sure that wand positions would flow from one to the other—the most magically "correct" version of a spell might be elegant, but it also might not be something that could actually be done.

It was interesting, until Mary made a mistake in her notes, and Lynn got a scrawled, "but always check the elevation first" carved into her collarbone. It felt exactly like someone had taken a knife and written it in her skin; she choked back a scream.

Eris paused, looked over at her. "You need not be concerned, Ms. Kennedy," she said. "The wounds will remain sterile."

That wasn’t actually what had upset her, but she nodded, considered her own notebook.

"And Ms. Brody—it is not that elevation must be checked before all other factors, it is that constant changes of elevation can be more draining than other adjustments."

For the rest of the lecture, Kasey took sparse notes, Quan didn’t write anything else down, but Mary just shrugged, and kept writing. Truth was, while Mary was probably right, Lynn couldn’t quite bring herself to write anything down, unless she was absolutely sure it was accurate. And Mary made a few more mistakes, one of which was carved into the sole of Lynn’s foot, which was just unbearable.

Jordan and Parry made occasional mistakes too. Parry stopped writing until he got a nudge from Jordan. Juan, though, didn’t write anything. He just looked straight ahead, clearly not focused on what was being taught.

Lynn winced when she saw that—he was going to pay for that, and even if he didn’t, he was going to take the horrible things that Eris was doing, without getting the benefits the rest of them did.

At first she thought that Ethan’s group was just better at understanding than the rest of them, until she saw the blood dripping from his sleeve. Ethan was watching, he was writing things down, but it seemed that his session with Eris and Andrei had left him almost as damaged as Jordan, if in a slightly different way.

Eris didn’t remark on any of this, but she certainly noticed it; Lynn could see her look at Juan, and Felicity, whose whole blouse was soaked with drool, at Ethan, at her. And she looked deeply satisfied, like she’d . . . Lynn didn’t finish that thought; she didn’t want to.

When they were done, Andrei finally took Felicity’s gag off, and they all shuffled back into the dorm. Which had changed. Instead of a long row of cots, there were now rooms; a sitting room, with a couch and chairs and a fireplace, and three rooms off that one, each with three beds and one cage.

It hadn’t been that way during lunch, but it looked like it had always been that way; the clothing and their notebooks were in the cabinets . . . well, most of their clothing. It took a little working out before they figured out whose room was whose, but once they did, it was clear that Lynn didn’t have a cabinet, and her notebook was in a drawer underneath Kasey’s desk.

"Right," said Mary, once they were all settled. "May as well get started."

Kasey frowned. "I think we’d be better off taking the spells we have apart," she said. "The ones we actually have both of, not the simple water-to-ice. And Quan, you’ll do the writing."

They all sat at their desks—Lynn sat next to Kasey’s—and they watched Quan finish what Mary had started, with Juan’s screams only somewhat muffled by being in a different room. Medical magic was complicated, and even if they were doing it right, it would’ve hurt.

"Right," said Mary, looking at what he’d written. She drew a parenthesis at the beginning. "This is setting the limits of the spell, right—this section to here." And she drew another parenthesis, which didn’t show up in the notebook, but which did show up on Lynn’s shoulder.

"Um," she looked at the spell closer.

"After the second elevation change," said Kasey, pointing. Mary closed her parenthesis, and it didn’t cut Lynn that time.

"Could you, um," started Kasey.

"No," said Mary.

"I didn’t even—"

"You were going to ask me to be more cautious in writing things down, and the answer is no. Look, Kasey, it had to be someone, and you picked her. You could’ve pretended that you didn’t realize that it could be her, and set it to me or Quan. But you didn’t. And now she’s going to get pretty cut up. Which is too bad, and if anyone had asked you if you wanted to cut Lynn whenever someone made a mistake, you'd have said no. But she’s going to get cut up anyway, and trying to slow things down isn’t going to help; if anything, it’d make it worse. So we’ll do the best work we can, but we have to work, not worry about working."

"She’s right," said Quan. "If this thing takes a week, that’s a hundred and twenty-eight lashes. We’re going to get hit when we’re writing, like, a lot. So there’ll be more mistakes that way than if we’re being a little aggressive."

"What do you think, Lynn?" asked Kasey.

Lynn stuffed her hand into her mouth, to keep the words from coming out.

"Right, sorry," said Kasey. "What do you think about what Mary and Quan had to say?"

She took her hand out. "They’re right," she said. "I wish they weren’t, and I hope you don’t make too many mistakes. But we have to get this done."

After dinner, when Mary and Quan were trying to see how the direct effect spell was incorporated into the more advanced levitation, Kasey got a towel from the bathroom, and wiped the blood from some of their mistakes, which was . . . it was all Kasey’s fault, really, but it felt nice, when she was taking care of her like that. And then Lynn tried to do some work herself, just taking apart Pei Cardi’s spell, trying to see how it worked. It was really tough, to put a line down, knowing that it was just as likely to wind up in her skin as on the page. But it was the only way through it.

Then, as she was drifting off, Kasey tapped her on her shoulder. "You should check your book," she said. "Mine’s changed, a little."

"Notebook?" asked Lynn.

"No, the rules."

That was also underneath Kasey’s desk. And she was right; it’d changed. She had to be within ten feet of Kasey at all times. And she had to sleep in the cage. And she had to make everyone’s bed, and lace up their shoes for them in the mornings.

They weren’t big changes, and they weren’t anything worse than what she’d already gotten. But there wasn’t any real indication that she’d get the collar off before the end of the year. Lynn curled up in her cage, miserable. The cots hadn’t been soft, but this was worse. And she was cut, everywhere. There was something in the magic that meant that they weren’t going to get infected, but the oldest cuts were only starting to scab over, and there was no way to sit that didn’t hurt.

If she hadn’t pushed as hard as she had with the light spell, Lynn might not have been able to fall asleep, but she had, so she did. Fitfully, waking up not knowing where she was, panicked by the bars of her cage, and falling back into half-nightmares, which repeated the same stories, over and over, coming out wrong every time.

It turned out that she had to wait for Kasey to unlock her cage in the morning, and then she was bursting for a piss, but she had to stay within ten feet of Kasey at all times, which meant that she had to wait until Kasey got dressed, and lace up her shoes for her before she could get to the bathroom. And then she had to take the stall next to her.

At least Mary and Quan stayed in bed until later, so she didn’t have to scurry back before they put their shoes on without her. They’d stayed awake in bed in Quan’s bed until late, which was fine—less likely to cause trouble for her.

Mary accepted the new rules without any problem, but Quan looked a little troubled by it, and definitely uneasy when Lynn laced up his shoes for him. But Kasey . . . it wasn’t amusement, or satisfaction, or lust, or anything so readily definable. But there was definitely something in the way that she looked at Lynn, when Lynn was tying Mary’s shoes, or making the bed. It was decidedly uncomfortable.

They hadn’t gotten a working spell yet—they hadn’t even put down an outline—so the first of the two lashes for the day caught them all as they came into the classroom. And then, it turned out that while Jordan or Juan had read the new rules for Juan, nobody on Ethan’s team had been paying attention.

Andrei took three teeth from Cassandra, one for each rule she’d missed.

There was a look of hurt, outraged surprised on Cassandra’s face when she found out that there’d been edits, and then pain, as Andrei worked. But Ethan . . . he’d been moving sort of slow, responding to questions or conversation, but not really in them, ever since he’d been taken into Eris’ office.

He lost that detachment as Andrei took Cassandra’s teeth out, shuddered as though it was his bones being broken. And there was that look of hooded delight in Eris’ eyes as that happened—she watched him during the course of that operation, rather than Andrei and Cassandra.

The lecture was on the general practice of composing spells. There were organizational practices that they were encouraged to use—while the spells might work without that organization, they would be harder for other wizards to understand, it would be more difficult to use bits and pieces of the new spell in other applications. There was, very clearly, a right and wrong way to do this, and the assignment was not merely to produce a spell that worked—it was necessary to compose a correct sort of working spell.

It was, apparently, Jordan’s turn to spend lunch with Eris, and he went there with his head held high. Which was almost certainly stupidity rather than bravery, but whatever worked. Lunch, however, was painful. After wolfing down the chicken and potatoes that had been put out, they got back to work on the spell. Only once the finished drawing out the basic lines of the spell, everything else they tried was wrong, and wrong things hurt.

The first part was supposed to set the limits—to concentrate on a specific area over a specific time frame. Only it couldn’t be too tight, or it would only work in very specific circumstances, and it couldn’t be too loose, or the energy would go everywhere, and while they all knew hundreds of spells—Kasey probably knew thousands, actually—it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to see how those limiters were formed, or to translate that into something new.

After fifty minutes of solid work, they’d gotten four symbols down on the page, and Lynn was so cut up that she hadn’t been able to contribute much for the last half of the time; she just sat and wept, trying not to jerk around so much at mistakes to throw Kasey or Quan off the track. Mary was mostly annoyed that Lynn had to stay close at that point, because she wasn’t actually contributing, and they needed to get things done; if they got done in a week they'd be able to handle the whipping, barely, but if it took two weeks, that’d be more than sixteen hundred lashes on the last day, and none of them had any illusions that Eris would stop things at that point.

Jordan came back after lunch; he didn’t look shell-shocked, the way Ethan did, but his face was blotchy, and he didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Except Juan, who cringed away when Jordan looked at him.

If Lynn had been better at the ball-bearing thing, that might have been her. Not just might—probably would’ve been her. If Felicity had asked, she’d have been happy to get a partner to go after Parry, and they’d have gotten her just as easily as they got Juan. Lynn looked over at Kasey, who was frowning at her notebook, trying to be sure she had everything right in her head before she put it down. Things weren’t nearly as bad as they could’ve been.

Ethan, Liam, and Eileen had patched up Cassandra during lunch, and got the teeth to regrow with way less screaming on the subject’s part than Jordan and Parry had managed with Juan. To be honest, they managed that with less screams from Juan than whatever it was that Jordan was doing to Juan out in the gardens. Could’ve been a lot worse, for all that it was impossibly painful once Kasey’s team got into things after the lecture ended.

At dinner, Lynn was a wreck. Felicity had a few nicks and scrapes, Ethan was barely bleeding, and Juan was badly hurt, with a haunted look on his face. He stuck close to Jordan, eating from a bowl on the floor, and nobody looked at him for long.

When they were finished eating, Mary took out her wand, and did the water-to-brandy trick that was the spell that every fifth year mastered before anything else. On a whole carafe.

"Drink up, Lynn," she said, pushing it over to Lynn.

"I can’t," Lynn replied.

Mary sighed. "Kasey, please make her drink the brandy. She can’t help, and we have to work, and it’d make things easier. I mean, unless you want her to feel every single mistake we make, just as hard as possible."

Kasey frowned. "Lynn, you probably better have some of that," she said. "But not enough to make you sick. And drink water with that, so you don’t have a hangover."

Lynn hadn’t been helping that much before dinner, but Mary was right. And besides, she didn’t have a choice. She drank. Three cups, which made the room start spinning, but when she tried to have a fourth, her hand seized up, wouldn’t let her bring it to her mouth.

"Mary, this was your idea; come and help me get her showered. Quan, bring back a bowl to the room, and some water—we’re going to be working late, and she’s going to need more, later."

A bowl was a little unkind, but Lynn was past caring about that. She slumped into Mary as she was steered out of the dining room, into the white-tile recesses of the lavatories and showers.

The water woke her up a bit, out of the alcohol, but not much—Lynn wasn’t much of a drinker, and three brandies in quick succession was a lot

"You don’t mind, do you?" asked Mary, as Lynn tried to keep from slipping, or throwing up, or just lying down on the drain, to let the blood and water pour off her. Kasey sat outside the room—still within ten feet, but somewhere dry enough that she could look through what they'd done already.

"Course I do," said Lynn, her caution gone with the drink.

"Right, obviously," said Mary. "But you don’t mind what I’m doing? I mean, it’s . . . you are good at this stuff, and you have good ideas, but—"

"No, not you," she said. "I mean, whatever. I dunno. It’s okay, though. It’s part of the course, I guess?"

"I guess," said Mary, and shook her head. "But it's an easier part for me than for you."

"Yeah," said Lynn. She probably wasn't going to throw up, but if she was, now would be a better time than later. "Probably should get back." She winced, held her arm out. "Quan's making mistakes, already."

Mary looked at it, and then looked further up her arm. "Hm," she said.

"Yeah." This time Lynn did slip, into her, but Mary managed to hold her up, despite being smaller than Lynn, and despite Lynn being wet. "Let's get back."

The cage was too small, and it hurt to lie down, and she could see the beds, and they looked so soft and comfortable, and there were blankets. . . .

Kasey put a bowl of water in the cage, did the spell to make it a bowl of brandy. "When it starts hurting too much, drink. But not enough to make you sick, or hung over." And she added another bowl. "And keep drinking water."

"Bowls?" asked Lynn, somewhat resentfully.

"It's in my rules," said Kasey. "I can feed you in the cage, but only from bowls. And I have to correct you if you use your hands."

That was an appalling thought, but Lynn was drunk enough that it was also things other than appalling. She tried to curl her legs so that they wouldn't see it affecting her. Then they got down to work, and it hurt. But the brandy blunted that, and it was nice of Mary to have thought of that, and the way that Kasey looked at her sometimes—but she wasn't going to think about it.

Lynn lay on her side, and . . . well, she wasn't going to fall asleep, but she also wasn't going to contribute much to the conversation, and it'd been a few days and she hadn't slept with anyone, which was going to be a problem, and maybe Kasey would . . . because she'd feel bad, and she had to also, and maybe. . . she lapped at her brandy, and at her water, and tried not to think.

A whole sentence was cut into the small of her back. "Dammit," said Kasey. "And I think that was sort of like something we'd already tried. I can't. The stupid thing takes the mistakes out, so I can't even see the mistakes that I've already made, so I'm going to keep making them. And it works on other notepaper too—I tried with—"

"They're still there," said Mary. "We could take her out and look at the cuts."

Lynn stiffened.

"You know? That's probably the thing to do. You guys pull your beds together, which you may as well do anyway, and at least I can see where we've gone wrong. Probably not any sort of order, but better than nothing."

"I don’t want to," said Lynn, without really trying to talk—it was just words coming out. Too much brandy.

There was a long pause; she could see them looking at each other, looking at her. She could probably convince them, but . . . .

"Are you sure?" asked Kasey.

"It’s everywhere, Kasey," said Lynn. "You’re going to have to look at me everywhere, and I don’t want . . . ." she trailed off. "Do you really need to?" she asked, and she knew that she sounded weak, almost broken.

"It’d be a big help," said Kasey.

"Tell me to, then," said Lynn.

Another pause.

"Look, it’d be easier that way," said Lynn. "It won’t be me doing this to myself. I’ll do it because I have to do it; it’s worse when you make me do it to myself. If you tell me to do something, it’d be easier, because I’d have to do it."

"Makes sense?" said Kasey, slowly. "Lynn, come on out of your cage, and lie down here. Just relax—we’re going to have to look at some notes."

Lynn did what Kasey told her; she couldn’t do anything else. And it was nice to lie down on a bed, even if everyone else was sitting next to her, holding up her arms, or turning her over, and pushing her legs apart, to see their notes better. And if any of them noticed that there was . . . some of the mistakes had been cut into her labia, or her inner thigh, and when they had to check them, they pulled at her there. But there weren’t any comments about wetness, hands didn’t linger any longer than they had to on her thighs or breasts.

Well, not a lot longer than they had to, anyway. It was hard to tell, because of the brandy, and because they were genuinely working pretty hard on the spell, but the way that Quan brushed his hand against her right nipple when he was checking something that had cut into her armpit, or the way that Mary held her leg, or the way that Kasey . . . but they didn’t say anything about that, or mention that she was a bit . . . well, it was hard not to get a little excited, just because of the touch, and them looking at her, and it wasn’t exactly possible to hide her excitement, given the circumstances.

But they worked until they were too tired, and then they put her back in her cage, and she went to sleep.

The next morning, there was a bit of a hangover, but it wasn’t too bad. Getting all her chores done while staying within ten feet of Kasey at all times was a little complicated, but she was up and in the classroom when she needed to be.

After lunch, she’d be bleeding pretty bad, but at least for the morning lecture, she was able to focus on what was being said. This time, it was about some of the complications that could arise when creating new spells. It wasn't so much failures, as it was accidental secondary spells. Only they hadn't been taught about secondary spells at the Academy, which appalled Eris.

So instead of more work on that, she put down two spells on the board. They were short—three hundred symbols, and then five hundred, and neither of them were very dramatic. One was apparently a very old spell, which would improve the color and quality of gemstones, and the other was a lockbreaker.

They both had side-effects. In addition to turning a sapphire bluer and brighter, the first one also would cause nearby plants to sprout leaves, and while the lockbreaker was very good, better than any they'd been taught—it'd open just about any seal, magical or mundane—but it'd also leave the caster faintly feverish, and on the verge of vomiting.  
When she was done drawing the symbols, Eris looked over the class. "And who can tell me why these spells cause these side effects?"

Nobody raised their hand, and it looked like everyone was dreading the possibility of being called upon.

"Mr. Scott," said Eris. "Who among your classmates do you think can answer this question correctly?"

"I'm sure Juan can handle it," said Jordan.

"Are you?" asked Eris. "Are you telling me that in your time together, Juan Rivera has demonstrated both a quickness of wit and an understanding of the theoretical underpinnings that I am trying to get across?"

Jordan looked faintly trapped, and then nodded. "Yeah, I guess," he said.

"No!" said Eris, and it was like the crack of a whip. "You do not. You wish for Mr. Rivera to fail and be punished. I am not your tool, Mr. Scott, and I am not here to perform for you. And I will not be lied to, Mr. Scott."

Jordan shook his head, looked at Andrei, hand going to his mouth.

"Dear me, no," said Eris. "Teeth are taken for violation of the rules. Lying produces somewhat more variable consequences. Stand up, please, Mr. Scott."

Jordan stood, looking truculent.

"Open your trousers, please."

Lynn had spent the last three days naked, but Jordan hadn't, and he blushed furiously as he took his cock out, looking at everyone as though daring them to say something. They didn't, mainly because if they did, Andrei would put the gag in.

"And now, Mr. Scott, piss."

Jordan stared, caught himself, shrugged, and pissed on the floor. Seemed he'd needed to anyway, as there was kind of a lot of it.

"Most impressive," said Eris. "Now lick it all up, Mr. Scott."

He stared again. It looked almost as though he was going to argue, or not do it. Lynn looked away; she didn't like him, but if he did—if he tried either arguing or disobeying, there was nobody who'd deserve what would happen to him.

She looked at Eris again, and there was that same hooded delight as when she was watching Ethan. There was the sound of lapping, and then retching. "If you vomit, Mr. Scott," said Eris, "you will be obliged to clean that as well."

"Ms. Sullivan," said Eris. "Who do you believe can produce a useful response?"

"Ethan?" said Eileen, squeaking a little.

"A sincere response, at any rate. Mr. Greenberg, can you reward Ms. Sullivan's faith in you with a useful contribution?"

"Well," said Ethan, "maybe it's bleed-over? I mean, the color is changing in the stone, so the leaves, maybe?"

"It seems you cannot. Ten lashes for you, Ms. Sullivan. Mr. Nguyen—who do you think has the keenest grasp on problems of this sort?"

"Lynn," he said. No hesitation. A nice vote of confidence, but it put her on the spot.

"Ms. Kennedy?"

"You started with secondary spells, right?" she said. "Maybe there . . . maybe there are patterns in the spells you've written that are also causing the secondary effects? Like, you're casting one spell, but there's also another spell happening within the same wand motions?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to be clearer."

"Can I come to the board?" asked Lynn.

Eris gave a polite gesture, and Lynn stepped up in front of the class. There was enough space between the symbols that she could make notes, but if she screwed that up . . . .

"You may proceed, Ms. Kennedy," said Eris. "And if you do not make more rapid progress, Mr. Scott, Andrei shall force you to vomit, and then supervise the remainder of your task."

That was a less than encouraging bit of encouragement.

"So, if you take this motion, right, and this one—" Lynn underlined the symbols she meant. "And then this one further on, right? You get the beginning of the minor dampener."  
"There are no dampening side effects from either of the spells, Ms. Kennedy."

"No," said Lynn. "But my point is that maybe there's another spell in there like that, only it's completed, and it makes the buds sprout. It's sort of like if you write a paragraph, and then you take the first word, and the fourth word, and the twelfth word, and you get another sentence."

"Very good, Ms. Kennedy," said Eris. "That is precisely the nature of secondary spells, and while an extremely clever wizard might be able to layer two effects through the careful choice of order and structure, it is far more likely for a secondary spell to arise through mischance, and for it to cut against the grain of the intent of the first spell. These are random effects, and randomness is best avoided in the practice of the art."

She paused. "Unless there was something further you intended to demonstrate for us, Ms. Kennedy, you may return to your seat."

Lynn flushed, hurried back to her seat.

"During the course of this lecture, I shall demonstrate how to disentangle the secondary spell from the first of the two I have put on the board. Should anyone bring to me a version of the unlocking spell which does not include secondary effects, I shall pass over their turn for spending the lunch hour with me. Now, Mr. Nguyen; it seems that you made the correct choice. Why did you choose Ms. Kennedy as the one who could answer the question?"

"She's not as powerful as most of us, I think," said Quan. "But she . . . Lynn understands things pretty well. Better than I do, anyway."

"And better than Ms. Brody, or Ms Bouet?"

Quan hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes," he said. "I mean, for magic."

"Quite. Ms. Kennedy—"

Lynn swallowed.

"You were, in fact, able to answer my question. Why did you not volunteer that information?"

"There were a lot of reasons," said Lynn, slowly. "Mainly, though, I was afraid that I was wrong, and that you'd have Andrei cut off my ear or something for a wrong answer."

Eris laughed. "I suppose you would be; but you exaggerate. You'd lose an ear and your tongue for talking about things you've heard me say in confidence, but not for a wrong answer. And because of your fear, the credit that you have earned through a correct answer is transferred to another; Mr. Nguyen is excused from his next visit with myself and Master Rostem, and you are not."

Everyone paid close attention to the remainder of the lecture, which focussed on what the markers for a secondary spell were, and how to structure a spell to avoid them. The way she took apart the gemstone spell wasn't just interesting in terms of avoiding the secondary spell; it touched on how and why the spell worked in a hundred different ways.

Well, everyone except Jordan, who was having a hard time licking up all his piss, and except Juan, who looked a bit dead, cringing away whenever Jordan looked up at him. When it came time for lunch, Eris looked almost fondly at that pair, and then back to the rest of the class.

"Having enjoyed the company of the victors of my introductory competition," said Eris, "It is not time to turn my personal attention to those who lost. And I am afraid, Ms. Kennedy, your turn has come. Follow me, please."

Lynn felt her stomach drop away, but she stood, started walking.

"But," said Kasey, and then stopped.

"Yes, Ms. Bouet? Finish your thought."

"But that's more than ten feet away from me," she said.

"Indeed it is," said Eris, with a faint smile. "I fear that there is no room for spectators in what will follow, but if you wish to accompany Ms. Kennedy, I'm sure we shall find a role for you."

Kasey stood, uncertainly, smoothing at her skirt. "Yeah, I—"

"No!" said Lynn. Eris looked at her, an eyebrow raised. Her rules—she had to be polite to Kasey. "No, please, Kasey," said Lynn.

Kasey looked confused.

"I don't know what happens," said Lynn. "But whatever it is . . . you've seen Ethan. I don't want to owe you this. And I don't want you seeing it, whatever it is. Please, Kasey. It's just a tooth; you'll be able to put it back fine, and, I mean, none of us are going to get through the year without mistakes like that. Please?"

"Are you sure?" asked Kasey, slowly.

Lynn didn't trust herself to answer with words, so she nodded, once.

"Very well, then," said Eris. "If the delay is concluded, the rest of you are dismissed, Ms. Kennedy, follow me."

The door that they went through led to a comfortable looking room; wood paneling, bookcases, a writing desk with a silver tray-stand behind it, a lunch service on the tray. Lynn followed cautiously, not sure what she should say, or do, or if she should say anything. Eris sat down behind the desk, removed the cover from one of the dishes, and breathed deeply, and gave a satisfied smile. And then a short nod.

For a moment, Lynn thought that the nod was to her, and had a panicked instant where she tried to decide what she was supposed to do. Then Andrei picked her up by the neck, and slammed her into the wall.

Lynn screamed, instinctively, struggled. It didn’t do anything; he had his hand around the side of her head, and smashed her into a door, then tossed her to the floor.  
There was blood down the side of her face; she couldn’t see out of one eye; she tried to turn, to run. No thought, just instinct.

"Understandable, but unwise, Ms. Kennedy," said Eris, as Andrei grabbed Lynn’s ankle, pulled her back, got his hand in her hair.

Lynn screamed as he pulled, twisted.

"And while your volume is similarly understandable, it is not appreciated." A quick succession of motions with her wand, and Lynn’s screams were suddenly silent. She was still screaming, she knew she was, but nothing was coming out.

Andrei pulled her up by her hair, held her up, toes dangling, with one hand; from the corner of her eye, Lynn could see him unbuttoning his trousers with his other. His cock wasn’t massively long—above average, but not impossibly so—but it was as thick around as her wrist.

He threw her down on the other desk grabbed her hips. Lynn looked up at Eris, who seemed quietly amused by what she saw, took a sip of wine.

Lynn had stopped screaming, but Andrei thrust into her ass, hard, no lube, and she gave another silent shriek; she was tearing apart.

"Enjoying your lunch, Master Rostem?" asked Eris.

"There is always the hunger," said Andrei. He pulled back, pushed in again. It was too wide, she wasn’t . . . it hurt so much, Lynn could barely think.

"Better when they start with clothing," he said. Lynn thought that he was in as deeply as he could go, but there was a sudden brutal shift of his hips, and she knew that he hadn’t been, and that he’d torn something inside of her. Another soundless scream, another futile attempt to twist loose. "Better when they start with dignity. You will not shift the order, before I’ve had all of them?"

"It will depend on their performance, Andrei—you know that. Perhaps one will attempt to run, or something of that sort."

Lynn continued to try to squirm away; she knew she was moaning, she knew she was crying, but there was no sound.

"You think already?" said Andrei. "Perhaps you are right." He thrust deep inside of her, hard, like he was punching her;she hadn't eaten since breakfast, but it felt as though she was going to vomit. Lynn knew that would be a mistake.

"Which of them are you thinking will be first?" asked Eris.

"The stupid girl with the big breasts," said Andrei. "Or the sweet fellow with the apple cheeks."

"Yes, Ms. Ross or Mr. Scott, almost certainly," said Eris. "I doubt that Mr. Scott would learn much from the example of Ms. Ross, but if he runs first, she will attempt to stay longer."

There was a sudden quickening of Andrei's pace, and then he buried himself in Lynn's ass, pulling back so hard on her hair that she thought her neck would crack. There was a moment, just a moment, when he pulled out, and she thought he might be done. Then he turned her around, and punched her in the eye.

It was the first time anyone had ever hit her like that; the room swirled around her, bright lights flashing at the edges of her vision. She would've fell, but he grabbed her by the throat, dragged her to the center of the room.

"Other than that, what do you make of this year's crop?" asked Eris.

Andrei shrugged. "It is hard to see, through the hunger. I pity them, of course, but . . . they are all the same, every year."

There was a ring hanging from the ceiling. Andrei tied Lynn's wrists together, through the ring, so that she was dangling a foot off the floor, all her weight pulling at her wrists. She rotated slowly in the air, mouthing pleas to Andrei, to Eris. Andrei didn't seem to see them, and Eris just shook her head slightly.

Then Andrei took his belt off, wrapped an end around his fist. Not the end with the buckle.

"I fear that you will never get beyond your basic hunger, if you do not learn the complexities," said Eris. "Each crop is the same in broad outlines, but different in particular—you are, for instance, looking forward to abusing Ms. Ross' breasts, are you not?"

The first stroke of the belt broke one of Lynn's ribs. At least, it felt like it did. Then he hit her breast, hard enough to draw blood. And again, around her back.

"Of course," said Andrei. "And I shall hurt her a great deal; perhaps with a knife. But when she is gone—it will be the same again, with the next group. It is the same hunger, it is the same food."

Eris shook her head. "A point of view, certainly. But surely you can see that they are different enough to break differently. Mr. Scott will break soon, I think; he is greatly unused to having to suffer the consequences of his actions. The others in their own ways. Perhaps Mr. Greenberg after that; he has come to appreciate the weight of what is occurring, and has chosen to take as much as he can onto his shoulders. Mr. Rivera believes that he is broken—it will be necessary to disabuse him of that belief before he can be taken properly apart."

Lynn was blinded by tears; the screams she couldn't release echoed and rechoed in her head. Andrei loosed the rope holding her up, and collapsed to the floor; he lifted her up, pushed her up against the panels of the wall, and pushed his cock into her cunt. It was slick with her blood, so it hurt, but not as much as it had before. Only now, her back was to the wall, and she could see him, see his handsome, dispassionate face as he fucked her, his lip curling back slightly, the sadness still in his eyes.

"And I have a feeling," said Eris, "that one of them will break spectacularly."

"Who?" said Andrei, every thrust driving deep into Lynn, deep and hard and painful.

"I'm not certain," said Eris. "One of those whose cracks are not yet so apparent. And I cannot say what form it will take, either. The sort of thing that if it happened outside the walls, would lead to a nightwitch, or a haunt. There is a destroying flaw in one of them—at least one of them. And I shall find it, and I shall break them along those lines."

"Better to break them like this," said Andrei, and there was that quickening of his pace, the hands pinning Lynn back to the wall tensing hard enough that it cut through all the other pain. He came in her, hard. Again, the faint hope that she was done, when he let her drop to the floor. Then he took her by the ankle, dragged her back to the ring, and hoisted her upside down, by the one leg.

Lynn shrieked silently, twisted; the rope was thick, but it cut into her foot, and the weight—Andrei lifted her higher, so that her head was at the height of his waist. And he had his belt in his hand again.

"It is, I fear, your hunger speaking," said Eris.

Andrei shook his head; Lynn could see that through her tears, hear him through the blood pounding in her ears. "It is my nature," he said. "There is progress—an hour here, a book read, there, without the need for—" He brought the belt down across Lynn's crotch, the buckle landing on her ass. She kicked, reflexively, helplessly; he hit her inner thigh.

"Progress is by its nature incremental," said Eris. "But there is progress, and there is potential. Much as with these children."

"Who?" asked Andrei. "This one?"

"Perhaps," said Eris. She stood, walked over. Lynn blinked up at her, looking for a reason for hope, in her thoughtful scowl, or—

"Break her wrist, please, Master Rostem."

He grabbed hold as she tried to move her arms away, pulled her right arm away from her, and slowly, slowly bent her wrist back; Lynn struggled, mouthed curses and pleas; the further he pushed it back, the more it hurt, and then there was a snap, and it hurt worse than anything. Andrei moved it a little more, grinding it back, and if Lynn's screams hadn't been silent, they would've filled the room.

Eris shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "There is potential there, perhaps, but she is content to take a secondary role. Perhaps I am wrong, but I fear that while she has a sufficiency of intelligence and ability, the drive is missing."

She looked up at the clock. "It would be best if you finished with her soon; there is significant damage to undo."

Andrei nodded, left Lynn swinging there from one leg, trying to cradle her wrist—it hurt, everything hurt. And then he had the pliers in her mouth.

She heard the tooth break before she felt it; and she felt it in her jaw, in the back of her head.

"Very nice," said Eris, after Andrei passed it to her. "How long before we have one from each of them, do you think?"

Andrei shrugged. "A month?" he said. "Two?"

He cuffed Lynn on the side of her face, hard, and she spit out blood.

"Do not vomit," he said. "And if I feel your teeth, little bird, I shall make of you such a ruin of flesh that I do not think that even Grandmaster Carmichael will be able to put you back together in time for your lecture."

"You underestimate me," said Eris. "Perhaps I shall demonstrate. Or perhaps Ms. Kennedy will perform to your specifications. You would be well advised to at least make the attempt, Ms. Kennedy."

She patted Lynn's leg absently, the one that was tied to the ceiling, and returned to her desk—there was some sort of confection on the silver platter.

And there was Andrei's cock in Lynn's mouth, hard, insistent, tasting of blood and pain, and Lynn was choking on it, but she couldn't bit down, blood filling her mouth as he thrust. There wasn't any further conversation to distract her, nothing but the reality of what was happening.

She didn't bite, didn't flail her legs too much. Just took what Andrei was doing until he was done, and dropped her to the floor. Three more hits with the belt—two because her blood had spotted his cuff, and the third, because he enjoyed watching her scream, even if he could not hear it. And then he went to get a fresh shirt, and Eris pulled a chair over next to her.

"It is," said Eris, "Possible to heal magically without it causing pain. But . . ." a shrug. "It is not to my taste. Perhaps you will examine the theory yourself at some point, and be able to make your own choices in this regard. For now, you have some experiences to relive."

Which was what happened. Eris unbroke Lynn's wrist, closed the cuts that Andrei had made. Each casting hurt exactly as much as it had when Andrei had done it. More, because she knew what was coming; where he had torn her apart, she tore her back together, everything coming one after the next, no pause, no escape, no breath.

When Eris was done, Lynn was whole again. Except for the tooth, except for the lines that were being scrawled across her shoulder and back, as Kasey and the others worked on their project—she'd gotten so used to that that she hadn't even noticed them starting, though now, it hurt worse than it ever had.

"On your feet, please, Ms. Kennedy."

Lynn rose unsteadily.

"Good enough," said Eris. "Your company was a genuine pleasure, and I look forward to the next time your name comes up in the rotation."

Lynn shuddered. It was rude, and it could get her in trouble, but she couldn't stop it.

"Delightful," was all that Eris said. "Now, back to class. You wouldn't want to be late."

While Eris had healed her, she hadn't cleaned Lynn off. And there would be no hiding beneath robes or uniform. 

Well, they'd all either had it done to them, or were going to. Lynn did her best to keep her head high as she went back out, and took her seat. It wasn't easy. They looked at her, and then looked away, tried not to see the blood and semen on her inner thigh, the belt-shaped bruises on her breast and side.

Her seat was next to Kasey's, and when she sat down, Kasey reached over, took her hand, and held it, nearly as tight as Andrei had—Lynn squeezed back, fought back tears. When they were at the cars, she should've turned around and left, found something else to do for seventh year. But she hadn't, and there was a year left. She was going to have to go back into that room, it was going to happen again, over and over. And she was going to have to face it.

That, and everything else. Her tongue found the place where her tooth had been, tasted blood. There was a spitoon next to her, and as Eris continued her lecture on secondary spells, and on other hazards of composing spells. There was a lot to remember, but Lynn couldn't quite bring herself to write it down. She hurt too much, in too many places. Didn't stop Mary or Quan—Quan didn't make too many mistakes, anyway—but Kasey saw that she wasn't writing, and didn't write anything herself.

When the class was dismissed, the first thing they did was get the dentistry books, and put Lynn's mouth back together. Which hurt pretty bad; the new tooth pushed up through bone and flesh, and it didn't feel exactly right. But despite that, it was comforting to run her tongue over a whole line of teeth, no gaps.  
With that done, Mary got down to work, but Kasey hesitated.

"Quan was right," said Kasey. "Lynn does understand this stuff better than I do."

Mary shrugged. "So?"

"So maybe we shouldn't keep her drunk and bleeding every night?" said Kasey. "I mean, if she understands it better, we could—"

It was Quan who shook his head. "It's too late," he said. "I mean, you could go ask Ms. Carmichael to change who's getting cut, but . . ."

But that's probably not a good idea, they all thought—Lynn could see that on their faces, and despite the fact that she was the one getting cut, she had to agree.

"Yeah, but—" started Kasey.

"But nothing," said Mary. "You've seen what happens when she tries to work through it. You could try something other than brandy, but it seems that the fact that none of us spent enough time partying has left us screwed, unless someone knows a spell for morphine or something? Opium, Quan?"

"Racist," he said, and punched her shoulder. "But we've got to get this done. Unless you think one of the other teams is going to solve it for us."

"Well, not Jordan's," said Mary, and Lynn had to agree to that. Jordan wasn't working on anything beyond fucking Juan, Juan wasn't working on anything besides being fucked, Parry wasn't good enough to get anything done, and Felicity—well, she didn't look very cut up, and if it was just her, she wasn't going to cover much ground. "But Ethan?"

Quan shook his head. "I heard them during dinner. They're concentrating on the secondary spell exercise," he said. "It's Juan or Cassandra next, and Ethan really doesn't want Cassandra to go—so they're going to try to keep her out by working on that spell. Maybe it'll connect, though? I mean, the work on that—"

"It won't," said Lynn.

They looked at her, which made her want to not have said it, but she was right. "I mean, it looks like it might. But secondary spells are really unlikely. And the reason that she chose those particular spells is probably because they aren't going to directly relate to anything we're doing. It's a trap, to get us to waste time."

"That's my point!" said Mary. "This whole thing—"

"Here's what we're going to do," said Kasey. "We've got an hour between when the lecture finishes and when there's food for dinner. So, during that time,we're going to review what we've done, and Lynn will make whatever questions and suggestions that she can. After dinner, we get back to work. And Quan—you're good with people. See if anyone has a knock-out spell or the equivalent. Something more effective and fewer side effects than brandy, anyway. Tomorrow, a little bit of work during lunch, but no brandy—we need Lynn to pay attention to the afternoon lecture, because I want her to have as much information as possible."

"Makes sense," said Quan.

Mary scowled at him, but when nobody else had anything to say, she shrugged. "Worth a try, anyway. So, what are your questions and suggestions, Lynn?"

Lynn took out her notebook. There were a lot of comments and plans, but in terms of actually getting stuff done, they'd written two phrases—eight symbols each. The spell wasn't going to be that complicated; maybe a hundred phrases? Not much more than that. Still, it wasn't an encouraging start.

She shook her head. "I'm not an oracle," she said. "I don't have the answer we need. But . . . there is a thing that struck me—you've got similar phrases in the light spell and the levitation, in the fifth transition? And the way they change in the better version is something that might be more widely relevant?"

"Mind if write that down?" said Mary. "If you're right, it won't hurt."

Lynn hesitated, then shook her head. It was right, but . . . nothing definite, but there was an idea there. And another.

"The dentistry books," she said. "There are going to be different ways of doing the same thing in them, probably? We don't have enough points to compare, and if there's something like that in there, it'll give us a leg up?"

"Huh," said Mary. "You might be right about that."

"Thanks," said Lynn, and Mary nodded, looked away, a little embarrassed.

For the rest of the hour, Lynn came up with a few more general ideas, but nothing else specific. And then came a quick dinner and a shower, and then came brandy and pain, and people prodding at her, turning her this way and that, to see the words they'd cut into her.

And then, finally, sleep.

The first few days, Lynn had barely noticed the lashes that they were getting for not having finished a spell. But it was starting to add up. There was one during breakfast that made her spill her tea, and another during the lecture that made her jump. The other students were also starting to notice. Could be that they'd get to work on the spell. Could be that they wouldn't—it was just eight that day. And if they didn't start before it was more serious, it'd be too late to start.

That was the thought that distracted her, as Eris talked about the specificity of movements—how to make sure that they were isolated, and didn't blend into each other—stringing together too many similar positions inevitably led to mistakes of that sort.

And then, lunchtime. There was at least one good thing about what had happened the day before; Lynn knew that it wasn't her turn next.

Ethan looked more worried about it than Cassandra—he'd been through it, after all, and Eris waited a few seconds, looking at him, and then said, "Mr. Rivera, you will be spending the next hour with Master Rostem and me. Mr. Scott, would you care to accompany us?"

"No," said Jordan. "No way I'm going back in there. Break all his teeth if you like."

"You are mistaken, of course, Mr. Scott," said Eris. "Your turn will come around again soon enough. And it will be a single tooth, for breaking a single rule. Come along, please, Mr. Rivera."

Which was approximately what everyone expected of Jordan. Juan didn't even seem to show any particular fear, or regret, or anything; he just followed along behind Eris and Andrei.

They ate their usual hurried lunch, and then the notes started. Lynn followed along as well as she could—even added two more symbols to the phrase they were working on, finished it. But then the cuts got too bad, and she had to stop and breathe while they worked. She looked around. Parry and Felicity were working, anyway, and Felicity was wincing at just about everything that Parry tried to put into his notebook. Ethan and his group were working hard, but he wasn't cut at all—they were trying to solve the previous day's riddle, and they'd kill themselves doing it. And Jordan was sitting, toying with his salad.

The afternoon lecture was more of the same; Lynn did put a few notes down in her book. Speculative stuff, as well, trying to find links between what they were doing, most of which got scrawled on the inside of her arm, or on her calves. But there were a few notes which stuck.

"The thing is," she said, in the gap between the lecture and dinner, "we're not going to get through this way."

"That's what I'm saying!" said Mary.

"No," said Lynn. "You're saying that we're going to be able to do it this way if we just push hard enough. But we're getting, what? One, one and a half phrases a day? I mean, they're solid, and we're on our way. Maybe it'll speed up; maybe if we get everything right, and we work every free minute, as hard as we can, and we finish four a day, average. Say, five?"

"It's not going to be five," said Quan.

"No, but let's pretend it is," said Lynn. "We're at day three, and we'll have five by the end of it. Call it ninety-five more phrases? Five a day would make that nineteen days. Two to the power of twenty-one is . . ."

"Two million," said Kasey. "A little more than two million. You're right. We're not getting five a day if we're getting two million lashes that day. So what's your plan?"

"I don't have one," said Lynn. "I'm just saying that we need a new plan."

"Well, think of one," said Kasey, and Lynn was gone. She couldn't hear or see, or—

"Lynn," Kasey was shouting, from very far away. "Lynn, snap out of it—stop it! Stop trying to solve the problem!"

Lynn blinked. "Please no," she said. "I can't—if you told me to eat the sun, I'd have to try. I don't have another plan, and if you tell me to think about something, everything else shuts down."

"You told her to stop," said Quan, slowly. "You have to take that back. I mean, we all have ideas, but she's getting closest."

Kasey looked like she was about to cry. "Lynn?" she said, slowly. "I want you to try to solve this problem. But not to the exclusion of everything else? Pay attention to things around you, act normal. But work on it as hard as you can, without going overboard?"

Lynn swallowed. "I'll try, Kasey," she said. "I don't know if this is going to work, but it might. If not . . . I don't . . . I won't be able to stop doing this, Kasey."

She nodded. "Look, just try this," said Kasey. "If it doesn't work out, I'll try to come up with a better phrasing."

What Lynn wanted was for Kasey to not tell her what to think, but she couldn't even ask for that. And then it was time for dinner, and Jordan didn't show up. And he wasn't in his dorm, apparently.

That got people talking; even Eileen, who Lynn basically only saw in class, poked her head in, to see if they knew that Jordan had decided to try to run. There were pained winces, shakes of the head. There wasn't a damn way that Jordan Scott was going to escape, and while none of them liked him, nobody wanted to see what was going to happen to him after he was brought back.

Which meant that they were going to work as hard as possible, and which meant that they were distracted enough to make a lot of mistakes. Lynn lay in her cage, and watched symbols carve themselves into her upper arm—scrawled symbols from Mary's mistakes, neat little marks from Kasey, textbook standard lines from Quan. There was something there—Lynn was fuddled with brandy and pain, but she couldn't stop thinking about ways to solve the problem; she literally couldn't, thanks to Kasey's instructions. And she was pretty sure she had it, only then she couldn't remember the solution she had.

Lynn didn't sleep easily that night, and from their tossing and turning, nobody else in her room did, either.

The next day, when they came into class after breakfast, Jordan was standing at the front of the classroom. He was wearing his uniform and robe, but they were cut and tattered. There were dried leaves in his hair, and he had cuts and bruises and a haunted look in his eyes. Nobody said anything to him; just sat down, and waited.

Eris came in, and gave them all a bright smile. "Before we begin," she said, "There are a pair of phone conversations which it will be instructive for you to hear. First—" She cast a spell, sharp, crystal clear motions.

"Dad," said Jordan, and he sounded strained.

"Good to hear from you, Jordan," said another voice, that sounded like Jordan, but a bit older, heavier. "How's the seventh year going?"

"Fucking terrible, Dad; I need your help."

"Can't be that bad, Jordan—I mean, she's letting you make calls. I did warn you that—"

"No," said Jordan, and there was a hint of a whine in his voice. "She didn't let me; I've fucking left, and I need your help, or she'll be after—"

"What! You've . . . Eris Carmichael! You can't be—"

"She had me . . . she's been hurting me, real bad. You've got to help me or—"

There was a dial tone.

"That was the first call," said Eris. "Here is the second."

"Grandmaster Carmichael?" It was the same voice that had been talking to Jordan. "This is Martin Scott. My son has done something extraordinarily imprudent—"

"Yes," said Eris, crisp.

"I have to assure you, I had nothing to do with this, and if you want any sort of assistance, I will be—"

"Assistance of what sort?" asked Eris.

"If you want me to direct him somewhere he can be picked up, or if you . . . anything, Grandmaster. I want to be entirely clear that I wasn't involved in this, and I haven't attempted to interfere with your instruction in any way."

A pause. "I understand," said Eris. "And when the situation is resolved, I shall see if I have any cause for complaint."

And the phone went dead again.

Jordan had been looking tired, and sick, and frightened, but that second call was like Andrei had opened his belly with a gutting knife.

"Mr. Stephenson," said Eris. "Why do you think that the senior Mr. Scott reacted in this manner to a plea for help from his child?"

"Was he your student?" said Parry.

"No," said Eris. "He was not. It is an interesting guess, but not a single former student of mine has allowed one of their children into my care. Mr. Donovan?"

Liam shook his head. "I don't know," he said.

Eris sighed. "Ms. Sullivan," she said. "What would happen to me were I to kill another wizard?"

"The senior council of the conclave would . . . you'd be declared a nightwitch, and they'd assign someone to assemble a team to go after you." That was one thing that had been drilled into them pretty thoroughly at the academy.

"Almost correct. Ms. Ross, how could I perform that act without incurring that sanction?"

"If you killed a nightwitch, it'd be fine?" said Cassandra.

"Correct," said Eris. "Ms. Brody; another exception."

"If nobody could figure out that you killed them, you'd get away with it," she said.

Eris' lip quirked up in a smile. "Not an exception granted by the rules, but one worth bearing in mind. Now, Ms. Bouet—you are the sort who enjoys rote memorization. What are the other exceptions?"

"If the death occurred in a time or place where the conclave does not claim authority, if the death was a secondary consequence of a required duty of a wizard, if it was provably accidental or incidental to actions taken with the full authority of the senior council, or if it occurred during the course of a legitimate duel or melee."

"Very good," said Eris. "For a duel to be considered legitimate, there are relatively few causes which are acknowledged by the conclave. And rather than listen to Ms. Bouet regurgitate the list of causes which are recognized, I shall cut to the chase."

A twist of her wand, and a book appeared in her hand, "Should any wizard interfere with another's apprentices," she read, "wards, bound servitors or minor children, this should be considered fit cause for conflict, and none may stay the hand of a wizard who hath been wounded in this fashion."

She closed it with a snap. "You are all past the age of majority. But for the duration of this seventh-year study, you are considered my apprentices; should I fail to teach you, you may call me before the council. You are entitled to a suit of clothing, for wearing beyond the confines of my walls, and you are to be fed at least four times a week, sufficient food to keep you from starvation. And should anyone—parent or godparent, Lord of the Council or Headmaster of a school—should anyone at all interfere with my instruction in even the slightest way, I am allowed to call them to a duel, and I am allowed to kill them."

Eris put the book on her desk, and smiled at them. "There are no wizards who wish to face me in a duel. There may be some who could best me in a challenge of strength, but none of them are eager for that sort of conflict. Should a coalition of wizards attempt to aid you in your escape, I would be able to call them out one at a time, and they are most assuredly aware that I would. There is nobody who will protect you from me, in these walls or outside of them. You are mine, children, to do with as I please, and Mr. Scott's punishment will be tempered because of the clarity which he has given to this lesson."

Jordan looked up, and Eris laughed. "Furthermore, the punishment for attempting escape is delimited by the distance you have fled, and the time you've spent outside of my lands, and Mr. Scott did not, in fact, succeed in going beyond my borders. After I burned his car, he wandered my forests for a night, until Andrei picked him up, to join us for our morning classes. So relative to the normal sorts of consequences, it will be mild indeed. However, before we begin, there is another point worth mentioning. One of the other exceptions listed by Ms. Bouet was if the death was incidental to actions taken with the full authority of the senior council. And my instruction of apprentices is taken with the full authority of the senior council."

A bright, poisonous smile. "This is not simple theory—this is a claim which has been tested and established as legal fact. Should I choose to kill one of you, so long as it is part of the process of instructing the surviving students, I am free of any legal claim."

Lynn looked over at Kasey, whose eyes widened. Eris wouldn't . . . Lynn couldn't even complete the thought. Eris would.

"With that said, Mr. Scott—tell your classmates what you think of them. Begin, please, with Felicity Lopez."

"Felicity's a stupid bitch," said Jordan, and he looked appalled by what he'd just said. As did Felicity. "She's lazy, and can't take a joke, and she thinks that she's better than me, just because she finished higher in her academy rankings. Keeps trying to tell me what to do, but, whatever. If I push her, she'll do what I want. I mean, they all know how things are, really."

"Ethan Greenberg?"

"Lousy kike," said Jordan. "People like him shouldn't have been allowed in the academy. Probably's going to steal—probably that's how he won that contest—by stealing something. Cheating, sneaky bastard, who's fucking that Irish whore Liam."

And so on. The only people who Jordan didn't say anything horrible about were Parry—"he's a good guy, and all those stuck-up bitches need to learn to respect him, think they're better than he is, but they're all garbage," and Juan.

When Eris asked his opinion about Juan, Jordan tried to keep his mouth shut, shaking his head, until Andrei took a half step forward.

"Juan Rivera is smart and popular and knows a lot about magic," he said. "I wanted him to like me, but he didn't, and everything I did made it worse, and I wish there was some way I could make it better, but I can't, and I wish I could do something, but he hates me, and I love him, and I couldn't stop doing things because I wanted everything too bad, and now it's ruined."

The absolute rage in Juan's face at hearing that was . . . if Jordan had just said something like he'd said about Lynn—"Lynn's a whore who doesn't even care that she's naked all the time, and she's probably got diseases, and she's probably sucked the cocks of every guy besides me, and she loves the pain—you can see her writing things down, just so that she'll feel hurt," it probably wouldn't have been as bad. But it wasn't, and it was that bad. Probably worse than Lynn thought it was.

"Well," said Eris, when he was done. "And now we know. Mr. Rivera, step forward, please."

Juan stood up, stepped forward. As a general rule, whenever Eris said that, there was a measure of fear on the part of whoever she'd called on, but Juan was too furious to care. A gesture with her wand, and his collar came off, and was in Eris' hand. "It seems that Mr. Scott has lost his privileged position. Would you care to put this around his neck, and take charge of him?"

Juan reached toward it, and then stopped, looked at Jordan, who'd let a trace of hope into his face. Juan smiled, cold as Eris. "No, thank you, grandmaster. I do not wish anything further to do with Mr. Scott."

"Ah, well," said Eris. "There are sufficiently few of us, and our quarters are tight enough that I doubt that you shall get your wish. But, for the moment—" a gesture, and the collar fell apart, into nothing.

Jordan looked like he was about to cry. And there were none of them—not even Parry—who looked like they cared. "It seems that you had not entirely realized that there was anywhere further for you to fall, Mr. Scott. And now you see that you were mistaken. Return to your seats, please, Mr. Rivera, Mr. Scott; we have wasted enough time on this, already."


End file.
